


Keeping It Together

by Vamphile



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-09
Updated: 2006-07-09
Packaged: 2018-12-26 19:49:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 106,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12065817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vamphile/pseuds/Vamphile
Summary: Continuation of storyline from "Brothers Keeper"  It's a few years after 513.  Brian and Justin are making it workIt's by me, so um, schmoop, snark, banter, sex, and real life aggravation are bound to show up in the plot as it moves along.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

  
Author's notes:

so here goes.

as always, i'm vamphile at LJ and you can comment or whatever there as well as here. let me know what you think. 

* * *

  


* * *

**Keeping It Together**

****Chapter One** **

* * *

Brian was kissing Justin in the VIP lounge of Babylon. “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year.”

The horns and cheering from the crowds that could be heard through the walls died down and the place seemed oddly quiet.

“You okay?”

“Just… weird is all.”

“We can always come back here for New Years.”

“Yeah I guess…but it won’t be the same.”

“Are you thinking this was a bad idea?”

Justin smiled then. “I’m thinking it’s gonna be great.”

“You’re sure? Last chance to say no.”

Justin shook his head. “Want this. This is good. This’ll be good. We’ll make this good.”

“Who are you trying to convince?”

Justin kissed him again. “You’re not nervous?”

“It’s all set. We leave tomorrow.”

“Christ there’s a lot of work to do.”

“You up for another round of closing paperwork?”

“No, but what choice do I have?”

“Well, we could keep the place in my name and I could maintain my sugar daddy status.”

“I’m a little old to have a sugar daddy.”

“You’ll always be a kid, deal with it.”

“Fuck. I will won’t I?”

“To me? Yeah, but in a really hot pervy way.”

“Well, so long as we’re clear on that. I’m a kid and you’re a perv.”

“So you ready to greet the well-wishers? Deb’s gonna cry.”

“No shit.”

And the next three days were a blur full of phone calls and arrangements and signing hundreds of thousands of papers and then they were standing there, surrounded by boxes, alone, in their new place in SoHo. 

“Um.”

“Did you want me to carry you over the threshold?”

And just like that, all the anxiety Justin had felt melted away. He leaned in and kissed Brian. 

“No. I just want to walk around a minute.”

Brian groaned. “You’ve already walked the place a hundred times. You’ve redesigned it five times and the renovations are approved, set up, and start on the fifteenth.”

“It’s just so…”

“Much nicer than that place you were sharing with Matt?”

“Hey, it had a doorman and was way better than my first place in Chelsea.”

“Yeah but it was still a shithole.”

“Hardly.”

“Did we really do this?”

“No turning back.”

“This is…”

“This is when we fuck.”

“Oh, good, that beats walking around and looking at all the stuff we’ve got to do.”

Brian’s eyes raked over Justin’s body. “We’ve got stuff to do.”

Justin smiled. “We’ve got furniture to buy.”

“Not today. Bed’s in there. We’ve got everything we need.”

“What about…”

Brian walked over to Justin, kicking several boxes to the side. “Shut up.”

“Okay.”

Brian was leading Justin to the bedroom. It was at the moment just a mattress on the floor; the bed was coming on Thursday. He pushed Justin down and watched as he bounced a little and then smiled up at him. “I like the new mattress.”

“Good.”

“I like you.”

“Better.”

“You have clothes on.”

“I can change that.”

They were both naked in moments, and Brian watched in the waning daylight as Justin's eyes turned deeper blue with desire. He knew he’d never get over that. The way Justin’s need was telegraphed by his expression, by his smile, by the way his eyes dilated 'til they looked deep blue almost black. He let himself fall on top of him, holding himself on his arms to keep from crushing him. “You’re hot.”

“Need you.”

“Got me.”

“Now.”

“Patience.”

“Fuck patience. I’ve waited long enough for this.”

“We’ve been here for ten minutes.”

“Yeah, nine years and ten minutes.”

“We’ve done this before.” Brian’s head was hovering over Justin’s as they shared oxygen. 

“Not like this.”

“Well, we’re trying something new.”

“Then why does it feel so familiar?”

“Because we’re home.”

Justin closed his eyes and Brian realized he was about to cry. He heard him whisper the word in a tone he usually reserved only for Brian’s name. 

“Home.”

“Home.”

His hands were on him then, pulling him closer. Brian felt the urgency in Justin's touch. He knew what he wanted… hell, he wanted it too. To connect… to KNOW this was right and they spoke to each other then, in sounds no one else would ever be able to translate or discern. With movements and gestures that no one else would ever see. Their own language that they’d constructed, revised, and perfected. It was a living thing this form of communication between them. It grew, it changed, it morphed, but it never ended. 

Justin's hands, his legs, his thighs, his chest, they all seemed to be trying to mark Brian, to pull him closer, as if having him inside his body wasn’t enough. And Brian felt it too at this moment. He laid his body flat against Justin’s. Contact, skin against skin. Justin’s legs crossed behind his back, he made small short thrusts into him as he stroked the hair out of Justin's face, kissed his forehead, his temple, his eyes, the tip of his nose. He wanted to swallow him whole, to keep him here like this. He wanted this to be real. 

Everything had moved so quickly in the past few months there were times he wasn’t sure it was. But then his attention was brought back to the moment. Soft sighs against his ear. “Brian. God, Brian, home, god…” strong gentle hands running through his hair and blazing tight heat around him. He thrust his hips again and pushed his tongue into Justin’s mouth. 

When they both came they were swallowing each other’s moans and they stayed like that, entangled, fingers, legs, arms. Brian's head resting in the crook of Justin's neck, their hair mingling. He was thirty-nine years old and he felt like a fucking nervous teenager on the first day of school…but he knew one thing. He lifted a hand to stroke Justin’s arm and their fingers entwined again. He knew he had the coolest kid at the table to sit with during lunch.

He laughed at the metaphor and Justin moved a little. “What’s so funny?”

“Me. I’m stupid.”

“Why?”

“You have to ask?”

“No.”

“This is good.”

“Duh.”

“You’re not nervous anymore.”

“Brain’s been completely shut off.”

“That’s a neat trick.”

“Isn’t yours.”

“I only shut my brain off when I’m __not__ with you.”

“We’re very different people.”

“Thank god.”

“I love you.”

“Thank god.”

“We should probably order something to eat.”

“Probably.”

“You’d have to get off me.”

“Then fuck it.”

“Brian.”

Brian moved a little and Justin made a small sound as he pulled out completely. “You order. You’re the one who did the takeout research.”

“You were busy.”

“Still am,” Brian said as his hand ran down Justin’s back while Justin fished for his phone. “I programmed the Chinese place and the Mexican one we liked. You have a preference?”

Brian gave him a look and Justin nodded. “Chinese.”

They were sitting against the wall of the living room surveying the boxes and eating with cheap wooden chopsticks straight out of the carton. “Christ, we’ll never be unpacked.”

“Not much point yet, with all the construction.”

“I thought we just needed some paint and…”

“Relax, I’ve got it covered.”

“Justin, did you make changes again?”

He shrugged, “A few, but nothing major.”

Brian refused to drop eye contact as he took another bite. 

Justin broke contact first. “I swear I made it better.”

“Mmm hmmm."

“I just thought that the light was better in the third room, so I decided to move the studio in there. Besides it’s closer to the laundry. The second room still Gus’s?”

“Of course.”

“And what hideous plans do you have for the bedroom?”

“Fuchsia, mauve, and a pale lavender, all accented in pink tulle.”

Brian laughed. “Okay, but you know then you’re never getting laid again.”

“Pfft. Oh, we are gonna have some space issues, this place is the size of the loft, but… not both floors. We um…”

“What?”

“You’re um…”

“What?” Brian's tone was distrustful now.

“You’re gonna have to put out of season stuff in storage.”

Justin’s mouth was full and he said it fast and Brian was sure he heard him wrong. 

“What?”

“You’re gonna have to put the out of season stuff in the storage area in the basement.”

“Fuck that.”

“Brian, your full sized, walk in, entire room of a closet was crammed when we moved. And you brought almost everything. And like it or not, I have you know…clothes.”

“Well, stay naked, then the problem’s solved.”

Justin rolled his eyes.

“We could turn the second room into a closet.”

“You’d sacrifice your son’s bedroom for hanging space?”

“No, but do you really need a studio?”

“You want me to rent space? Cause I can do that, it’s only what, another couple grand a month, hell, what’s that compared to the mortgage on this place?”

Brian winced. "Don’t remind me."

“We could have found something more reasonable.”

“This was the first reasonable place that wasn’t a dump.”

“Yeah, that two bedroom in Chelsea with the raised ceilings, hardwood floors and 1800 square feet was a real craphole.”

“We liked this place.”

“We did.”

“Did?”

“Do. I still do. You’re just gonna have to deal with the fact that some of your stuff may have to stay at the loft for the winter.”

“I’m not sure I can be away from it for that long.”

“I think you’ll live.”

“Prognosis is still unclear.”

“Are you upset we kept the loft and not the house?”

“No. We never lived in the house. Made sense to sell it. Besides, profits covered the down payment here.”

Justin winced this time. “Just the down payment. What the fuck are we doing?’

“Putting ourselves in debt up to our eyeballs.”

“Why are we doing this?”

“If I recall there was a long conversation. Some slammed doors, six weeks of neither of us being able to find the time to make it to the same city and a final decision that this was bullshit.”

“Oh yeah that.”

“You could have moved back to Pittsburgh.”

“You wanted to move here.”

“I did?”

“Yes.”

“I did. I’m not sure Michael’s….”

“Shut up. Let it go. He’ll get over it.”

“I guess so.”

“Besides, with Ted running the Pittsburgh KinnetiK office and Angel managing Babylon…you’ll be back weekly to make sure they’re not fucking up.”

“They’ll fuck up anyway.”

“Duh.”

“This is…”

“Scary?”

“Yeah.”

“Good scary though.”

“Yeah.”

“We’re in the same city.”

“Yeah.”

“And we’re not on vacation.”

“Nope.”

“So that’s kind of new for us lately.”

“Except you have to be in San Francisco in six weeks.”

“For two weeks tops. And you’re gonna be in Washington in February.”

“For a couple of days.”

“Christ, we should schedule a vacation soon before we’re too booked to ever get away.”

“Can’t for a while. New office…”

“Cyn’s got the new office thing covered.”

“Don’t even want to think about what covering her relocating expenses cost.”

“Worth every penny.”

“I know. The office looks great.”

“She’s good at shit like that. So are you.”

“So are you, the design was…”

“I did what I could with it.”

“False humility makes my dick soft.”

Justin smiled. “It looks phenomenal. Cyn picked a great space.”

“And this place will eventually feel less like a storage facility.”

“Once we unpack.”

Brian pulled a box over. And Justin stopped him. “Let’s wait 'til tomorrow.”

Brian pushed the box away and it slid across the floor. “Whatever you say.”

“Besides, all my stuff isn’t here yet.”

Brian groaned. “This isn’t all of it.”

“This is just your shit. Mine’s coming tomorrow.”

“I thought…”

“Nope, it’s still at my place with Matt.”

“Your place?’

“My old place.”

“So you don’t live here yet?’

“I do too.”

“Uh uh, you’re my guest.”

“Then you have to be extra nice to me.”

“Or I could just consider you a trick and kick you the fuck out.”

“Yeah, cause that works.”

“Speaking of which…”

“Which what?”

“Do you have any new hoops for me to jump through?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Rules.”

“Yeah. Don’t fuck anyone else ever.”

Brian looked at him for a second and Justin laughed. He leaned in and kissed him. “Our old rules worked.”

“When we were in different cities.”

“So what do _you_ think the new rules should be?”

Brian shrugged. “Leave a sock on the door.”

“Yeah, cause I’m gonna be blocked entrance into my own home…not happening.”

“So no one comes back here.”

“Fine. No one here. But…”

“You still don’t like to go to their place?”

“Not particularly, but if you’re around, I’m mostly okay with a quickie in the alley.”

“I’m so proud.”

“I was going to say, I still want you home.”

“By three?”

“Like you can stay up that late anymore. But no, those rules were about something else. I’m saying in general, no lost weekends without hearing from you. Come home.”

Brian nodded. “I’m not the one with a habit of lost weekending it.”

“That was three years ago. You gonna let that go?”

“Probably not.”

“I was a stupid kid.”

“Have you noticed that you say that all the time about whatever you were doing the previous year?”

“I do don’t I?”

Brian nodded slowly. “Maybe you should listen to me.”

Justin grabbed the cartons and stood up. “Well, since we know that’s not gonna happen, let’s just assume I’m being a stupid kid now too, but come home.”

“Okay.”

“Oh and Brian?”

“Yes?”

“Seriously, half that closet is mine.”

“We’ll see.”


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

**Keeping It Together**

**Chapter Two**

* * *

"You. Like. This. Table."

"Justin, cut it the fuck out. It’s not even a little cute anymore."

"You sure? I thought it was a LITTLE cute."

"Trust me. And I hate that table."

"What about this one?"

Brian sighed. He really was tired of arguing over furniture. It had been three hours. They'd found **_a_** chair. And that was dependant on finding a sofa that worked. He should have hired a decorator. Justin had refused.

"Why didn't we just hire a decorator?"

  
"Because I refuse to become one of my clients, paying people to do something just because we're too lazy to do it ourselves."

"You really don't recognize your own fucking talent."

"I know where my talents lie, it's not about where to put the bathtub or which walls are load bearing."

Brian shook his head. For a guy who brought in six figures a year Justin seemed completely contemptuous of what he did for a living. It wasn't new but Brian wondered if it was more pronounced lately or if it was just something he noticed more since they were actually living together. 

Except the living together part hadn't fully sunk in yet. It had only been a week and they still felt like they were just visiting. Hell the visiting thing had gotten so familiar over the years that this felt right. But then there was the sometimes heart stopping realization that there was no absolute hurry to try a new restaurant, book show tickets, or savor the quiet moment. Because none of those things were dependant upon flight schedules and check-in times. There would be more moments, unplanned, natural, organic, moments of teeth grinding, mind numbing, toe curling, waaay too much sometimes, togetherness. 

They both knew they were ready. It was just that neither had quite adapted to the concept yet.

They'd loaded the built in bookcases that lined the study with their stuff. Mixing Justin’s art books and computer manuals and Brian’s ad research and cheap paperbacks that he usually hid under his bed. Justin felt the need to display them proudly, which made no sense to Brian since the study was Justin’s office and no one would ever see them. 

He smirked again. Justin hated to admit he needed an office at all, but you don't pull down six figures a year part time, and Justin refused, absolutely refused, to rent office space. 

~**~**~**

Justin’s constant presence in the apartment was one of the reasons Matt had not minded too much when he had announced that he was moving out. After living together for 18 months Matt had come to the startling realization that Justin left the house if he felt like it… but rarely HAD to. 

Sure, he had a few appointments with clients, but for the most part he sent out some freelance guy to take the measurements. He showed up at the space once to get a feel for it and once to see the construction start. The rest he did by phone, fax, email, whatever.

Bottom line… Justin never left. Matt loved him, and was sick to death of him by the time he finally started shopping for a place with Brian. It took them two months to find a place they could both agree on, and another month and a half before they closed on it. Matt counted the minutes.

Becca took Justin’s old room. Becca was always out. She spent three months a year out of the country on archeological digs. And took lots of six week visits to indigenous peoples of wherever-the-fuck. Her parents paid the rent on time. It was a perfect situation.

Matt was pulled out of his reverie by the phone.

"Hey."

"Hey"

"I need to come by tomorrow and get some more stuff."

"There’s nothing left her of yours."

"Um, there must be."

  
"Sick of him already?"

"No just…"

Matt laughed. "So there is such a thing as too much togetherness."

"He hates all furniture."

"And your taste is impeccable."

"You’re not helping.”

"Brunch tomorrow."

"Bless you."

"Hardly but I'll see you then."

"My sanity thanks you."

"Try the Jedi thing."

"Doesn’t work on him."

"Doesn’t work on anyone."

“Whatever. I have to go look at something ugly now."

"At least he's not."

Justin looked over at Brian who seemed to be judging the height of the sofa by how easy it might be to bend Justin over it. He said goodbye quickly to Matt. "We’re not buying a sofa for its fuckablilty”

"What other criterion is there?”

Justin seemed to think about it for a moment while Brian pushed him against the back of the cream leather sectional. "This one's perfect."

"This one's too low. I'll be squished in half.”

"You love that."

"Not all the time."

"You want one with adjustable legs?"

"Fuck off."

"I'm trying."

"Brian." Justin sighed. “Pick whatever you want.”

"Nope."

"What?"

"Can’t"

"Why not?"

"If I do, I'm pretty sure I'll have to hear that same sigh you're doing now until we die."

"Like we're keeping whatever sofa we buy 'til we die."

"We might."

“In what world?"

"We could be hit by a bus on the way out of here."

"Or you could shut the fuck up and like the sofa that we looked at a half hour ago."

"It matches the table."

"I know."

"I don't like the table."

"We can find another table."

"Fine, that sofa, different table."

"Fine."

And the day wore on, and on, and on, and on, and eventually they had a table, chairs, a sofa and a coffee table.

There were still billions of things they needed and millions of things that needed to be purged from their combined possessions but for the moment they were too tired to think about it. They were walking back towards their place when Brian's phone rang.

"Hi Gus."

"Mmm hmmm, really? No shit. You're right, don't tell your mother. Really?"

Justin looked over. Brian was smiling widely. "I know. Absolutely. Wouldn’t miss it. It is cool. No, he's here. Yeah. I'll think about it. Yeah I got them. No I'm not doing it. You'll pick something out when you're here or find something reasonable. I know. You too. Take care sonny-boy. Tell your mom I said hi. No problem. Love you."

Justin looked at him questioningly. "He made the hockey team."

"Do they know he's not Canadian?"

"I'm not sure he knows."

"Well, great, he's got dental insurance right?'

"They have socialized medicine up there."

"How’s he doing with the whole…"

"He’s pretty resilient."

"Still, parents splitting up..."

"Are we surprised?"

"I am."

"Really? Is it the deep and passionate love you always saw between them, ‘cause, you know, I was just rooting for those two crazy lesbians." 

"Shut up, you gave up Gus to keep them together."

"That’s before I knew that they were insane."

“I think you knew it then. I just can't believe…"

"That one of them cheated again, or that they couldn't get over it?"

Justin shook his head. "It’s still so…"

"Par for the course. This is why monogamy is such bullshit… this is why…"

Justin put his fingers over Brian’s lips. "Shhhh, it's okay, no one is asking you to stop fucking around. No one is asking you to get married. And no one is asking you to explain why you don't want to do either of those things. I get it. And you're right. Relax."

He stood on his tiptoes in the middle of the sidewalk, taking Brian’s face in his hands and kissing him. "You can fuck lots of beautiful guys and I'm not going anywhere."

"This isn't about that."

"Yes it is."

  
"It’s about Gus."

"Well, he's coming here for the summer right?'

"Yeah."

"And he's with Lindsay now."

"Yeah. JR's staying with Mel, they split the kids up like hers and hers luggage."

"Um Brian… Lindsay has no legal right to JR and Gus never liked his sister anyway."

"No one ever liked her."

"Stop it, you know she got cute."

"Once she could talk…"

"And she holds a fork better than her father now."

"Be nice."

"I can't."

"Then be silent."

"Since when?"

Brian shrugged. “I don't know. It just seems wrong to beat up on Michael when I don't like him either." 

"What?"

"When we were friends it was just… fucking with Michael. We do that all the time. Now… I still want to punch him."

"He was an asshole about the move."

"Apparently he's been an asshole about everything and I never noticed."

"Not really. You two will get past this."

"Fuck."

“Brian. He’ll get over this.”

“Fuck it, I don’t care if he does. I’m not.”

“You’ll get over it too.”

Brian shrugged and lit a cigarette. “I’ll just be glad when…”

“When what?”

Brian shrugged again. “I have no fucking clue.”

“That’s new for you.”

“Not really. I just usually fake it better.”

“Pfft.”

“World’s most annoying sound.”

“Pfft.”

Brian rolled his eyes and put his arm around Justin's shoulders pulling him in for a kiss. “Cut it the fuck out.”

“Pfft.”

Brain laughed and they headed home.

He was sitting on the bed watching Justin measure the closet. “Should I ask?”

“I’m thinking about redesigning…”

Brian wrapped his fingers around Justin's wrist and pulled him towards the bed. “No.”

Justin was laying on his back now, staring up at Brian. “Then I’m marking off the halfway point. I need space.”

“No.”

“Then I’m packing up all of your clothes and shipping them off to the Salvation Army.”

“The fuck you are.”

Brian stared into Justin’s eyes and realized he still did that not blinking thing which was really disconcerting. “When did you get so fucking demanding?”

Justin lifted his arm and waved a little. “Hi, have we met?”

He collapsed half on Justin and half on the bed, burying his face in the Justin's hair and just breathing it in for a moment. He rolled on his side and played with the soft strands that were falling over Justin’s ear. “When did you become a label queen?”

“I’m not, but I can’t exactly wear the same thing to every meeting.”

Brian groaned. He knew Justin was right, and they’d never really had to deal with shit like this before. But dammit, closet space was such a stupid thing to fight about. Then he thought about packing up half his shit and shipping it hundreds of miles away and realized it might be worth the fight. “The closet’s mine.”

“Nope. I pay half the mortgage. The closet’s half mine.”

“Everything is half yours.”

“Including the closet.”

“I need more space than you.”

Justin raised an eyebrow. This should be good. “Why?”

“Because my clothes are longer.”

Justin laughed then. “You work with words for a living? Are you sure?”

“Because my clothes are more important.”

Justin laughed louder. “Go ahead, dig yourself out of that one.”

Brian realized he had no good argument and this one was pretty bad to start with but refusing to admit defeat he soldiered on. “I’m expected to look professional. You’re allowed to look artistically rumpled, so you can have an extra drawer.”

“How gracious of you to give me an extra drawer but no.”

“I’m older than you.”

“Waaaaay older.”

“Watch it.”

“You started it. It’s my closet too.”

“We can’t possibly be arguing about closet space.”

“You can’t possibly think I’m going to surrender my closet space to you just because you’re playing with my hair in that way that makes me hard.”

“This?” Brian asked, running his fingers through Justin's hair and letting his hand linger on his neck. “This makes you hard?” He was leaning over him now and watched as Justin shivered a little when his breath hit his ear.

“Fuck you. You know it does. And mmmmmm, that feels good. But I’m not ironing everything twice.”

“You don’t iron.” Brian was whispering it into his ear as his hands worked the buttons of Justin's shirt.”

Justin's hands were busy on Brian’s clothes too but he didn’t give in. “I iron. And my stuff is just as important as yours and you’re going to have to deal with that thing you hate.”

“Which thing?”

“Compromise.” Justin licked along Brian’s neck to soften the effect of the word.

Brian rolled off Justin and stared up at the ceiling. “So what’s the compromise?”

“Half the closet and I’ll eventually redesign it so that we have more space.”

“You can’t create more space, it’s a finite thing.”

“We could turn the useless room into a closet.”

“That room is not useless.”

“I’m never gonna have time to work in there anyway.”

Brian turned his head to look at him. “You need studio space.”

“You need closet space.”

“You’re gonna rent a studio?”

Justin shrugged against the bed. Both on their backs, their heads turned to see each other; so close neither of them could really focus. “You insisted on the studio. I told you I’d rent space if I needed it.”

“Of course you need it.”

“Didn’t have any at my old place.”

“Yes you did.”

“No, I had an easel and a canvas.”

Brian was seriously confused he sat up and leaned against the headboard staring at Justin intently. “When was the last time you painted?”

“The Mallmanitz show.”

“That was almost a year ago.”

“I know.”

“What the fuck?”

“Working. Rage, back to back clients, a few graphics jobs.”

“So you don’t want a studio.”

“You were so insistent.”

“Yeah, and you always give in so easily.”

“I thought maybe the right space would inspire me.”

“But it hasn’t?”

“Everything’s still in boxes. The studio isn’t even set up yet. And I still have the one above Babylon.”

“Where you did the work for the Mallmanitz show.”

“Yeah.”

“‘Cause you didn’t actually have or want studio space in New York.”

“At the time, if you’ll recall, I was doing THREE office refurbs plus two residential designs and HikeNow has become a household name, but they still use me for their graphics. Kind of hectic. Not a lot of time to sit in front of a canvas.”

“So cut back.”

Justin sighed. “This is a more annoying argument than the closet thing.”

“We’re not getting rid of your studio. Once stuff is settled you’ll end up painting again.”

Justin nodded and Brian sighed. “You can redesign the closet if you want. But I don’t see what good it’s gonna do.”

“Brian, you do realize that it’s more closet space than you had when I met you right? I mean, we’re arguing over splitting a closet that’s seven feet deep and six feet wide.”

Brian lit a cigarette and saw Justin’s expression. “Stop it. I didn’t say I was gonna quit all at once.”

“Right. You quit between cigarettes.”

“Don’t you have work to do?”

“Actually I do.”

Brian nodded and Justin re-buttoned his shirt and disappeared into his office, the only completed room in the house.

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

Justin sat in front of the monitor and tried to ignore the knot in his stomach. This was supposed to be easy. Then he laughed at himself and ran both his hands through his hair. Living with Brian Kinney, easy. Funny.

He was worried though. More worried than he was willing to admit. Sometimes Brian said things that made him wonder if they’d actually grown apart. He hadn’t painted in a while. He really had no desire to anymore. He sketched still. It was habit. He rarely sat and perfected his sketches the way he used to. Now they were more stress relieving doodles when he couldn’t move a kitchen island one more time without screaming.

He’d had some success with his canvases but his financial bread and butter was the space design and HikeNow. 

Rage was bigger than ever and Michael had said that something might be in the works for an animated feature on the cartoon network. Justin didn’t see how that would work without killing all the sex, which was NOT something he was willing to do, but he was kind of interested in doing a computer animated version of what had never gotten to the big screen.

He idly played with the layout he was thinking about for the closet and figured this was just the general angst that followed any new venture. 

An hour later he leaned back, satisfied. He was glad he had convinced Brian not to gut this room. The wall to wall, and floor to ceiling white built in bookcases made it seem comfortable, and the desk he’d bought worked well enough and really that’s all he needed to do his job. Besides it was nice to have a door to close. He’d gotten used to a certain amount of privacy. It was easy to give it up for a week or so at a time when Brian came to visit, or when he came back to Pittsburgh but he wasn’t sure he could ever give it up completely. Wasn’t sure he wanted to.

~**~**~**~**~***~**~**~**~**~**~***~

Brian finished his cigarette and pulled out some files that needed reviewing before he left for Washington. The tech companies all seemed to be happy with his work, and he’d landed several new startup firms a few years ago that were huge now.

He’d learned to discern geeks in a garage with no real plan, from those who had a worthwhile product and a modicum of business sense. The latter didn’t pay much at the start but the payoff was exponential when they were suddenly huge. He had a roster of such huge names now. And he had a couple meetings while he was in town but the primary goal was to meet with the guys from a new company that seemed to be about to break. They needed his help…he would be more than happy to provide it… at a price.

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

Justin was picking apart a bagel. Matt was watching him with amusement. “You’re fucked up.”

“No shit.”

“You wanted this.”

“No shit.”

“And now you’re all…’what the fuck do I do with this?’”

Justin sighed. “I still want it. There’s no question that this is right it’s just…”

“What?”

“I get it now.”

“Get what?’

“All of it. Why he was so against it years ago. Why he hesitated. Why it’s good to like, be an adult.”

“You’re an adult?”

“Fuck you.”

“Seriously, what’s the big deal? You guys have been together forever.”

“Not quite.”

“But, a long time.”

“But not together together.”

“Um, I’ve seen you two, you were _together_.”

“No we were a couple… in this twisted complicated, see you once a month, best sex ever, kind of way.”

“And now?”

“And now we’re a couple in this, domestic, oh look, you’re still here, and you’re gonna be here tomorrow too, kind of way.”

“Without the best sex ever?”

“No, that’s still there.”

“Just checking.”

“But it’s like, that’s ALL that’s still there. Everything else is different.”

“Why?”

“Because we haven’t lived together before.”

“I thought you two lived together before you moved to New York.”

“Not like this.”

“Like what?”

“Not like um, admitting it?”

“You two lived together in that loft and pretended it was something else.”

Justin laughed. “Yeah.”

“You only owned the top floor then right?”

“Yeah?”

“So it’s not like you were just roommates.”

“No, I didn’t pay rent, so we were NOT roommates.”

“So he was your sugar daddy.”

“I guess.”

“And now you’re what? Equal partners.”

“I think so.”

“And this is why you’re freaking?”

“I think so.”

“So you’re stupid.”

“I think so.”

“Have you talked to him about this?”

“This is why I love you.”

“Why?”

“Because you still don’t KNOW Brian. You don’t talk to him about feelings. You just… figure out what you’re gonna do and then do it.”

“What’s to figure out?”

“Nothing.”

“But you’re…”

“It’s nothing. It’s not like I’m leaving. Or he’s leaving. Or we’re breaking up. It’s just that I have to get used to my time being accounted for.”

“He makes you account for your time?”

“No. Stop being retarded.”

“I am really not the one being retarded in this particular conversation.”

“Remember James?”

Matt rolled his eyes. “Yeah, stupidest six months of my life.”

“Okay, remember when you used to know where he was, at any time of the day or night and you were all weirded out by it?”

“No.”

“Right, um, I was weirded out by it. And I still am… how do you have a relationship with NO mystery. I mean, I go home, he’s there. If he’s not there, he’s at work, or out, but he’ll be there.”

“Which is what you want.”

“Yes.”

“So you’re upset because this is what you want.”

“But it’s not what I’m used to.”

“So tell him to go away for a couple of days.”

“He is. He’s gonna be in Washington next week.”

“So you’ll be fine.”

“You’re not understanding.”

“You’re not making sense.”

Justin dropped the bagel onto the table. “I know.”

“So what do you want?”

“I want what I have.”

“So what’s the issue?”

“I also want what we _had_.”

“So you seriously want to have your cake and eat it too.”

“Almost literally.”

Matt nodded. “Go home.”

“What?”

“Go home. Go do something that reminds you why you want what you have. I know what happens when you start to question shit with Brian…and it’s not pretty.”

“It really isn’t.”

“So go home and figure out the answers BEFORE you get too deep into your ‘what the fuck am I doing?’ Mindset.”

“You’re good.”

“No, I’ve just watched this show for four years now. It’ll be cool to see it go daily.”

“For you.”

“For you too if you don’t fuck it up.”

“I’m not gonna fuck it up.”

“Yes you are.”

“Yeah, I am. But it’s okay, he’ll fuck it up too.”

“That’s why the two of you work.”

“We do, don’t we?”

“You have to. Wouldn’t wish the two of you on any other poor unsuspecting schnook.”

“See you at Becca’s book signing?”

Justin saw Matt wince. “She’s got like 3 Ph.Ds someone was gonna publish that crap she writes someday.”

“But before me?”

“I thought you hadn’t finished your book yet.”

“I haven’t. It’s close though.”

“So you wanted her to wait 'til you finished?”

Matt laughed. “Yeah.”

“She wrote a thesis that was readable.”

“And a publisher agreed.”

“And now we get to watch her sign her name and smile.”

“Sounds like a lot of not fun.”

“But you’ll be there.”

“So will you.”

“Yeah, but I’m not a jealous author.”

“No, you’re a neurotic mess.”

Justin smiled and threw his bag over his shoulder. “I’ll see you later.”

He thought about hailing a cab but decided to walk. It was fucking freezing. He shoved his gloved hands in his pockets but the cold January wind felt like ice against his face. He ducked his head and kept moving. He needed to think.

Matt was right. He knew that. He was doing that thing he did; questioning what he knew was right because it was new. What he didn’t understand this time was how comfortable Brian seemed with it all.

He usually bristled so hard at anything that smacked of domesticity. Now Brian was suddenly content. That was the word. When the fuck had Brian ever been content. Why was he content now, in a strange city, in a committed, if not monogamous relationship with….

Justin thought about it. _With me_. He thought to himself. _He’s content because he’s here with me. So why can’t I just be as over the moon as everyone assumes I am because I’m here with him?_

He kept thinking and walking and had pretty much lost all sensation in his face by the time he got out of the elevator and unlocked the door to the new loft. He set the alarm and stood surveying the place, waiting for his teeth to stop chattering.

There were still boxes, but they were pushed into corners. They’d ordered furniture but it wouldn’t be here for at least six weeks. For the moment they were making do with a folding table and chairs and some huge floor pillows. It kind of reminded him of the old loft after Brian had sold everything to take down Stockwell. 

They were together then but he had his own place. Now this was home. This was really his only home. This was really home. He smiled until he saw Brian walking towards him with a concerned expression. 

“What the fuck?’

“What?”

Justin realized his voice was shaking a little and his teeth were still chattering. 

“You walk all the way home?”

Justin nodded. “Needed to think.”

“And get frostbite.”

“I’m okay.”

Brian’s hands were on his face. “You’re all red.”

“Wind.”

He shook his head and slowly peeled off Justin’s jacket. “Lets take a shower, you’re shivering.”

“You’re not.”

“So?”

“So you don’t need a shower.”

“Humor me.”

“Brian, I can take a shower on my own.”

Brian took a step away and gestured for Justin to pass. He spent a long time under the hot water and when he was sure he hadn’t lost feeling permanently in his nose or feet he stepped out into the steamy bathroom to dry off. He walked back to the bedroom with a towel around his hips.

“I’m sorry. I’m in a bad mood.”

“Why?”

“Does there have to be a reason?’

“Guess not.”

“It’s weird, this living together thing.”

“I thought it’s what you wanted.”

“It was.”

“Was?”

“Is. Very much is. It’s just gonna take some getting used to.”

“For us both.”

“You’re not used to it?”

“I have to cut my closet space by more than half. I’m not used to it.”

“Then why aren’t you freaking out?”

“Because I’ll get used to it.”

“But you lived alone for so long.”

“I’ve lived with you for longer.”

“No you haven’t. We hardly lived together.”

Justin pulled on a pair of sweatpants and the thick socks Brian hated. He pulled a t-shirt over his head and crawled under the covers. 

“Better now?”

“Mmm. I was cold.”

“We can afford a cab.”

“I needed some time”

“To think.”

“Yeah.”

“About why you don’t want to live with me.”

Justin looked up. “No. I want to live with you. Here. I want to live here with you.”

“Good, because I’m not sure I have the energy to move again.”

“I don’t know why the adjustment is so much harder for me than it is for you.”

“Neither do I. We’re fucking up people’s bets all over town.”

“Probably.”

“Justin. It’s easier because you were ALWAYS with me at the loft. It was ours. For the last few years, it was _ours_. You made it ours. Made it yours. None of your places in New York were ever mine.”

Justin nodded. That made sense. “So this just feels…more natural to you.”

“Way more convenient.”

“Yeah, it’s always nice to have a piece of willing ass handy.”

“That’s exactly why I took this risk, for a piece of blonde boy ass.”

“Not a boy anymore.”

“Tell me that when you’re not 12 years younger than I am.”

Justin covered his face with his hands. “I’m gonna be fifty and you’re still gonna be calling me a kid.”

“Yup.”

“At fifty I probably won’t mind.”

“You probably will.”

“You’re really okay with this whole togetherness thing?”

“I know. I should be drunk and fucking three different guys daily.”

“Only three?”

“I’ve still got the business to run.”

“Right.”

“But you’re not drunk, and you’re not out finding random tricks.”

“Not at the moment.”

“Why not?”

“We’re better if we take turns rattling the cage.”

“We’re caged?”

“No but you’re feeling claustrophobic.”

“I never said that.”

Brian cocked an eyebrow and Justin gave a half shrug. “A little but I’m used to a lot of space. I’m used to a lot of alone time.”

“So take it. Tell me when you need it. I’m not trying to smother you.”

“You’re not. At all. Not even a little tiny bit of smotherage. I just understand now why I went to live at Debbie's. Why you wanted me to.”

“I’m really gonna hope this isn’t the same reason.”

“You didn’t kick me out because you were tired of having someone to answer to?”

“That’s a part of the reason.”

“Oh yeah, your stupid fear of love and commitment and pain and caring, and general mushy bullshit.”

“Thank god we’re past all that.”

“We really are.”

“So what’s left?”

“Hot sex and grocery shopping?”

“Sounds…”

“What?”

“Like something that would make you fuck a guy on the sofa in front of me to prevent.”

“Stop channeling Michael.”

Justin looked at him questioningly. 

“I’ve changed Justin. Not into something else, just… accepted defeat.”

“Defeat.”

“You win. I love you. We’re living together because we want to be together. Nine years, you win.”

“Why don’t I feel victorious?”

“I think you forgot you were trying to win.”

“I stopped trying.”

“And that’s when you won.”

“So we’re together.”

“Yes.”

“Because we want to be.”

“Yes.”

“We’re gonna fuck this up.”

“Hell yes.”

“And then we’ll figure it out again.”

“Fuck yes.”

“So then why are we both still wearing clothes?”

“No clue.”

“Let’s fix that.”

“Good plan.”

“Brian.”

“Yeah?”

“When you go to Washington.”

“Yeah.”

“Just, you know…don’t forget to call.”

Brian laughed. “Wasn’t planning to.”

“But if you forget for a day. That might be okay too.”

“Okay.”

“But it doesn’t mean I won’t miss you.”

“You can’t miss me if I don’t give you a chance to.”

“I know.”

“So I’ll give you a chance to miss me.”

“I think I might need that. I don’t know what to do without that feeling.”

“We’ll think of something.”

“Good.”

“Roll over.”

“Mmmmmm”


	3. Chapter 3

  
Author's notes: as Always, comments and feedback here or on my LJ, where i'm also vamphile  


* * *

* * *

**Keeping It Together**

**Chapter Three**

* * *

Brian kept bouncing his knee. He was fucking around with the stupid toys on the woman’s desk and Justin was considering smacking him in the back of his head. Instead he put a reassuring hand on Brian’s knee and pressed firmly to top the fucking shaking.

He leaned over and whispered, “It’s not a big deal.”

Brian nodded but he still looked tense.

They signed a few forms, wrote a check, took the envelope of papers she printed out and left the building. Brian lit a cigarette as soon as they were out of there. Justin laughed.

“Brian, we’ve signed thousands of pieces of paper saying that we own property together. We’ve signed things that allow us to pull the plug on one another. This should not bother you.”

“It doesn’t.”

“You are so full of shit.”

“It’s fine.”

“Brian….”

“It’s fine.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and kept moving. Justin let it drop but he knew this hit Brian at the core.

The arguments for it all made sense. The arguments against it were insane and so Brian had… capitulated. Agreeing was really too strong a word for it. But there they were standing outside the bank with a shiny new joint checking account.

They walked back home in silence. The biting wind causing them both to keep their heads down. Justin tried to gauge Brian’s full sense of discomfort with discreet glances but he couldn’t get a good read.

When they were back home Brian changed into jeans and sprawled out on the pillows with a beer. Justin joined him. 

“You okay?”

“Sure.”

He nodded and leaned against Brian’s chest hoping this wasn’t the straw that broke the camel’s falsely calm demeanor.

~**~**~**~**~**~**

Brian’s POV

He’s laying against me on these huge fucking pillows and he knows I’m upset, and the little fucker knows why too. I hate that. I used to have secrets. He tried so hard to figure me out. Here’s a shocker, he did.

Like the kid has ever set his mind to something and not accomplished it. And now he’s got me. Totally. And usually I’m okay with that. Mostly because the way he wants me is the way I want to be. I can’t be who he thinks I am. He still has a blind spot to how fucked up I really am, but it’s a smaller blind spot now. 

He doesn’t expect me to do shit I can’t do. He doesn’t expect me to just calmly accept things that are the worst fucking concept man ever invented. That’s all good. And I’m not a fucking moron. You don’t get to be where I am financially without making the smart decisions, and learning from the stupid ones. So it should all be fine.

I know. Ted knows. His stupid business manager Martin knows. We had to have a joint account. 

He’s right. He can’t write me a check every month so I can deposit it and pay the fucking mortgage, and the association fees, and all the rest of the bullshit that comes with this fucking place. And we all know I’m not gonna write him the check so there it is. An account, with both our names on it. 

And he’s still making sense. Yeah, he’s got my Power of Attorney if I’m ever too out of it to make the decision for myself. Michael was pissed to hell when he found out about that, but not as pissed as Ben was to find out he wasn’t Michaels POA.

And then the fucking mortgage in the first place. Two of them really. We joint own the loft, and this place, that he hasn’t named yet. I think he likes to call it home.

It’s all fine. I keep telling him it’s all fine. And it is fine. I know it’s fine. I know it will be fine, but goddammit, it’s not _that_ fine.

I am supposed to be the one in control… and I’m not in control if he’s writing the checks. And I’m not in control if he can actually see where I’m writing the checks and yes, I have my own account. Yes, he’s keeping a separate private account too, and this should not bother me. Or it should bother me more.

And that’s the thing. I’m not sure if it’s bothering me too much or not enough.

It should have been a deal breaker. He keeps telling me that it gives me more control because I can see where his money’s going… little twat knows me so fucking well.

And he has won. And I meant it when I said I have accepted defeat except I don’t understand why defeat feels so much like victory.

He comes home and he’s in a pissy mood because they want the sink in the island, which means that plumbing is going to be hellish. He bitches, he moans, and I smile. What the fuck is that?

Yeah, I meant it when I said that I’ve been living with him for years. I have. Or at least the ghost of him. Something that’s always there, a shadow, a scent, a feel, and then it would become corporeal, a couple of times a month, and then about once a month, and then that really long stretch that lead to a really long weekend of fighting and fucking and fighting and the final decision that maybe it was time to stop this stolen days here, couple of nights there, bullshit.

It was hot. But it was also exhausting. And I fucking missed him. I missed him every time he left and he knew that which made him get sad and quiet before he left, which made me want him to go. And then he’d leave and I’d miss him.

I’m so fucked up I can’t even think about what therapy would cost.

And we’d always assumed he’d come home. Back to Pittsburgh. Back to the loft. Back to our life, but like everything else in my life that I was so sure of before I met him… that plan changed drastically.

Right after we started seriously talking about him coming home Remson got the FDA approval on their new drug. It’s a breakthrough really. Two pills, twice a day, does everything the cocktail does. Cheaper, easier, more reliable. Not a cure, but a hell of a lot less side effects. Less of a time constraint on these too. Hour one way or the other won’t land you in the hospital. Shit sells itself. I’m lucky to have the account. 

Too big to do out of some shit-kicking little agency in Pittsburgh. Okay, KinnetiK is now the largest ad agency in Pittsburgh, and I won’t pretend that running into Gardner at industry functions isn’t fun. It’s almost as good as sex…. But not as good as sex with Justin.

My hand is running through his hair and sliding along the smooth cotton of his shirt and I need to stop thinking about sex with Justin because we have a joint checking account now and everyone knows that a minivan and a golden retriever is all that’s missing from the domestic bliss thing we’re doing and that means no sex.

That’s what domesticity is all about right? It’s about boredom. Tedium. Mind numbing conversations about who left the milk out and whether it’s worth it to subscribe to the Sunday Times or the paper at all. In general it’s supposed to be boring. And that’s what kills the sex. That gets boring too.

I’ve been fucking him for nine years. And it’s never been boring. It doesn’t get boring. And I just gave him access to almost all of my assets. So he could clean me out and leave now. I mention that too him and he jokes about it. About putting in his time and finally being able to take off to the Caribbean to live the good life once he’s cleaned out his sugardaddyclubfreakchildmolester whatthefuckever boyfriend or something.

And when did we get all these words to describe us. And why can’t I just say partner. Or lover, or whatever.

But whatthefuckever boyfriend or something is as close as we get and he likes it. He thinks it’s cute. He is really far too easily amused sometimes. Seriously, he’s 27, wasn’t he supposed to grow up, get past this phase?

The me phase. That’s what he’s supposed to be beyond, but he isn’t. 

Yeah it was a close call a couple of years ago. Stupid fucking twat thinking a fuck buddy was a good idea. Like Justin can actually separate sex and conversation from emotional ties.

I taught him the separation of sex and love. Taught him with the clinical precision of a surgeon how to take them apart and quaterize the wounds until there’s no connection and none needed. He can still do that. 

It’s the getting to know you bullshit that he forgets to avoid. He forgets that meeting new people is fun. That anyone can be infatuated for a couple of months. And then he fucks around with that asshole. Then he does it AGAIN.

And six months later he’s got this regular fuck buddy. And I’m telling him it’s gonna get messy. And he’s telling me he loves me. and I wait.

And he swears it’s all fine.

And I wait.

And he starts seeing the guy a couple of times a week.

And I panic, silently. And I wait.

And then he shows up at the loft. No explanation. No warning. No call first. He’s just there, at four in the morning, naked and curled around me in bed.

Fucker fell in love with him. Um, to quote the kid’s favorite phrase “duh” who isn’t gonna fall in love with him? He’s fucking hot. He’s fucking smart. He’s fucking amazing.

So fuck buddy declares his love and Justin is left to decide what’s easier. Good thing I didn’t know this was a decision he was making at the time he was making it. I could have told him what’s easier. Fuck buddy. Has to be easier. Has to be. But he decides I am. Decides it’s easier to be in love and complicated than in like with someone easy.

So Ethan was good for something. But then I already knew that. Should send that fiddler flowers someday. “Thanks for telling him what I couldn’t.”

And now his mouth is getting more insistent and when the fuck did he take my shirt off? And what was I talking about?

Right. Him. Idiot kid that I should be bored with but I’m not. I’m not bored after nine years and I’m not gonna get bored as long as he keeps finding new ways to do THAT…Christ… that feels good…

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~

Justin’s POV

“Christ that feels good.”

Finally. He’s been so wrapped up in his own head I don’t even think he noticed that I took his shirt off. 

He’s insane. Have I mentioned that? I love him. And I’m in love with a man who is just batshit insane sometimes.

Four and a half hours. That’s how long the paperwork portion of the closing on the New York place was. He wrote a check for as much money as I make in a year… well, almost as much. And he changed his fucking power of attorney. If he’s out of it, I can pull his plug, and vice versa. So what’s a joint checking account between two people who live together and fuck each other a lot? Oh, and love each other.

But it’s the end of his world.

Like I’m gonna say anything when he buys more shoes than he needs because he’s suddenly unsure about a pitch he’s got in the morning. Like I’m gonna say anything about the ten grand a year his new gym membership costs. Like I don’t know that he doesn’t JUST work out there. What am I, new here?

It changes nothing. For him it changes everything. The balance of power.

Yeah, it would be great to be with a man who didn’t have those issues. Who didn’t feel that need to be in control at all times but there’s one problem. That man wouldn’t be Brian Kinney… and see, I love Brian Kinney.

Never even occurred to me to love anyone else. Not since Ethan. And seriously, I owe Ethan flowers or something. “Thanks for making me hear what I didn’t want to. In your debt. Justin.”

He thinks the fuck buddy was a threat. Fucking guy was never a threat. I was just too stupid to see that he was falling for me.

But then again, as Brian’s pointed out… I do a lot of stupid things, and always end up looking back and realizing it.

The thing is… I only realize it because he’s like the world’s most amazing safety net. I could have just… fallen. So many goddamn times. If I hadn’t had Brian, the fuck buddy might have become more.

Then what? I’d be bored, and… bored. Have I mentioned the guy was pretty good in bed but he was sooo fucking boring. And there was NO drama. NONE. What the fuck is that about? Relationship without drama? Pfft.

So I’m trying to get his mind off the fact that he hasn’t lost anything, and he hasn’t given up control and that’s hard to do when I’m the one initiating but fuck it. when all else fails… revert to default settings. 

Our default setting is sex. If that ever seriously stops working, then I’ll worry. Until then, I’ll let him brood about the fucking checking account. I’ll let him piss and moan about the furniture. Furniture he loves by the way. I’ll just let him do what he has to do to get past this but if he can’t focus enough to fuck me…I’m gonna have to worry.

Okay, he put the fucking beer bottle down and he’s kissing me. His tongue, have I talked about his tongue? I never understood why people described flames as licking at something…'til one night there were flames licking at my soul. Seriously, that’s what it felt like… and his tongue. Fire. Pure fire and holding that fire in my mouth…I’m gonna disintegrate and I’m okay with that.

His hands are yanking at my shirt, and the sounds from the back of his throat are directions that only I understand but that’s okay too. I’m the only one who needs to understand them.

I don’t know if I make him lose the ability to think the way he does to me. He’s a little more centered when it comes to sex. He’s got an amazing ability to fuck without thinking about it but I can kind of feel when his thoughts come back to the task at hand, or in hand, or whatever.

And his fingers are in me now and we’re so okay it’s fucking scary. But Brian’s gonna fuck me, and then we’ll probably have a fight about something that will seemingly have nothing to do with a joint checking account and then maybe Italian for dinner…

Fuck… my brain’s about to shut off completely, and adkjdslfjasldfjssldkfdkjas;fljsl;dfjk.

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

“Call me when your plane lands.”

“Justin.”

“Don’t fucking roll your eyes at me. Call me when your plane lands. I’d hate to be happily munching on a cookie, or sucking off a trick while you’re bleeding to death in a field.”

“I’ll call when I get in.”

“That’s all I’m saying.”

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

“I’m in Denver. I’ve got an hour to kill.”

“So not dead in a field.”

“Not dead.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“Did you call the phone guy?”

“No. We don’t need a land line.”

“We do.”

“You have your KinnetiK phone and your personal cell. I’ve got mine. Why the fuck do we need a land line?”

…………………………….

…………………………….

“You’re feeling old.”

“What?”

“I can tell. It’s not an age thing. It’s a technology thing. Wireless Internet, satellite TV. DVR that works through the USB on the satellite box. No land line necessary.”

“Fuck.”

“If you really want one.”

“Forget it.”

“Call me when you land in Washington.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not old.”

“You’re a lousy liar.”

“I’m an excellent liar. I’m just not lying.”

“Later.”

“Later.”

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

“Here.”

“Good.”

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~

A week later Brian was back from Washington. He’d appeased some clients, landed the new account and refused to work with a company he knew would go under within a year. 

It was almost three in the afternoon and Justin had finished the measurements for a new client and given his pitch. The couple’s place was in midtown and he was only a couple of blocks from KinnetiK. He decided to stop by and say hi.

He got off the elevator and headed towards Brian’s office when he was suddenly confronted by a tall redheaded woman.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m here to see… Mr. Kinney.” 

“He’s in a meeting. Do you have an appointment?’

Justin wanted to glare at her. To tell her he KNEW that Mr. Kinney wasn’t in a meeting. That HE didn’t fucking need an appointment. 

“I just need to see him for a minute.” Justin smirked. He was bored. This could be fun.

“He’s in a meeting. If you’d like to leave a message, I’ll have him get back to you.”

“Sure, tell him this is Mr. Thomas. Kip Thomas. I just need a letter of recommendation for some work I did for him a few years ago. I’m sure he’ll see me.”

“I’ll give him the message. If you leave your number I’ll have him call you.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll see me. Just tell him I’m here.”

“I’m sorry. He can’t be disturbed at the moment.”

“As I said, it’ll just take a minute of his time.”

“And as I said, he’s _not_ available.” She was getting more demanding and fuck; in those heels she was towering over him. Justin wondered if Brian or Cynthia had hired the amazon. He instinctively backed away. 

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“I’m not leaving until I see him. And trust me, if he finds out you didn’t let me through, he’s going to be angry.”

“Sir. Please leave or I’ll be forced to call security.”

Justin bit his lip, but only to keep from laughing. Jerry and Oscar were nice guys. They stood in the lobby and stared at people but they were also pretty cool and knew him. Maybe calling security would be fun. But then Brian walked by and saw him.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Mr. Kinney. I was just explain to Mr.…”

Justin cut her off. “I just came by to get a letter of recommendation.”

Brian raised an eyebrow and Justin could tell he was trying to keep a straight face. “A letter or recommendation for what?”

“I don’t know if you remember me but I worked as an intern for you in Pittsburgh.”

Brian nodded. “I thought you looked familiar.”

“And I was hoping that you could write something short that would highlight how much I learned there and what my talents were.”

“Well…” Brian's finger was running down the buttons of Justin's shirt suggestively. “I’d have to look over your portfolio again. I’m not sure I can remember your talents. It has been a while.”

“I have it with me.”

Brian hooked his fingers into the waistband of Justin's pants and leaned in to him. They were sharing breath but not kissing. “Why don’t we go to the conference room?”

“Mr. Kinney, you have an…”

Brian looked up at the amazon and she stopped talking. Cynthia walked by and saw Justin bent backwards a little as Brian kissed him and rolled her eyes. “Half hour and then we’ve got an _actual_ meeting.” She called as she made her way to her own office.

Brian pulled Justin towards the conference room and they both laughed as the confused receptionist shook her head and muttered something under her breath.

“You’re mean.”

“Me? I wasn’t the one fucking with the new receptionist.”

“She wouldn’t let me see you.”

“I told her to keep the stalkers away.”

“Oh well then I guess she can stay.”

Brian was working Justin's fly quickly while Justin tugged at Brian’s shirt. “Do you really have an appointment in a half hour?”

“They can wait.”

Justin’s mouth was on Brian's collarbone now. “Okay.” He breathed into Brian’s neck.

Within moments Justin was bent over the dark polished surface of the table. His hands were splayed out and Brian was inside him. He moaned into the table and watched as his breath fogged on the glasslike smoothness.

He felt Brian’s body over his. Felt fingers and lips on his back, his neck, his arms. He spread himself wider and Brian sank into him more deeply. He grunted then and they both lost themselves to the moment.

When Justin was upright again, pulling on his pants, and watching Brian button his shirt he leaned over to kiss him one last time. “I’ll get out of your hair.” Then he made a face. “Shit, I left fingerprints all over the table.”

“Next time we should see what kind of marks your ass makes.”

“Next time? What makes you think I’m coming back here to face Xena, the gatekeeper?”

“I’ll put you on the list.”

“You have a list?’

“No. But apparently I need one.”

“Keep Aaron off of it or you’ll never get anything done.”

“He in town yet?”

“Next week. Classes start and I’m supposed to help him move into his dorm.”

Brian nodded. 

“So who else is on the list?”

“Oh you know, the random trick from last night. Santa Clause. You.”

“So it’s not so much a list as a note that says, ‘the blonde twink gets to see me’?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m gonna tell the scary amazon.”

“Don’t tell her anything. She might be fun to play with.”

“You need a hobby.”

“Yeah, I’ve got that kind of time. I’m starting on that couple’s midtown space next week. And they want me to do something about their place in the Hamptons before the season, so that’s got to get started soon.”

“Busy boy.”

“It pays the rent.”

“Mortgage.”

“Whatever.”

“You call the furniture people?”

“Yeah, still saying a month.”

“Fuck.”

“S’okay. I kind of like roughing it.”

“If this is your definition of roughing it…well…good.”

“Good?”

“Yeah. This should be as difficult as it gets.”

“Pfft.”

Brian rolled his eyes and Justin smiled. “World’s most annoying sound?”

Brian nodded.

“Dinner?”

“I’m thinking sushi.”

“I’ll order. Or do you want to go out?”

“Order. Remson wants to revamp something so I’ve got work to do when I get home tonight.”

“Mmm hmmm”

“You get anything accomplished in the studio?”

“Yeah, I managed to categorize my brushes by both type and size.”

“Very artistic.”

“Something will come to me.”

“No doubt.”

Justin threw his bag over his shoulder and smiled to Brian before he walked away.

Brian was left a little distracted throughout the meeting. Luckily Cynthia and Jamison, the new account rep he’d hired, picked up the slack. 

Justin wasn’t painting… what the fuck was that about. Then again, there were still sketchbooks all over the house. He hadn’t stopped drawing. Then again, they were full of pictures of buildings and stupid work like sketches and he had flipped through two entire books recently none of which contained a single picture of him. 

It’s not that he was an egomaniac… okay, it’s that he was an egomaniac, but dammit, Justin used to fill pages, books, napkins, any white space with random doodles of him. Now he doesn’t even rate a single simple line drawing?

He pushed the thought away. It didn’t matter. He still stopped by to fuck with his receptionist, and fuck him for no reason at all. That trumped stupid pencil drawings any day… right?

“Right?”

“What?”

Cynthia tried not to look aggravated and pointed to the boards she was showing the client. “We’re going to have everyone drooling and dying to buy your floor wax, wondering what they ever did without out. Right?”

Brian nodded. “It’s the perfect idea at the perfect time. You won’t be disappointed.”

The client seemed to buy it and Brian was glad that he didn’t have to elaborate. He really had no idea if it was the perfect idea, or the perfect time, and who the fuck still waxed their floors anyway? He pretended to pay attention while he considered what Remson might need.

By the time Brian got home Justin was half asleep and watching something on the history channel about junk food.

“Sorry, I’m late.”

“You’re not.”

“I’m not?”

“You never said what time you’d be home. You can’t be late.”

“Oh yeah.”

“Hungry?”

Brian shrugged and brought a couple of bottles of beer to the sofa like area. He handed one to Justin and opened his own. Justin was trying to open his but seemed to be struggling. Brian opened it for him and saw his hand shake.

“You okay?”

“I hate that question.”

“Not an answer.”

“Yeah. Just tired.”

“You take something for it?”

“No. It’s just a headache and a tremble. It’ll go away.”

Brian nodded and drank his beer. “Is that why you stopped painting?”

“I told you. It was a time thing.”

“But you’ve got time to watch a show on how America takes all fine cuisine and makes it bland and car friendly.”

Justin smiled. “It’s part of our culture. We’re like the muzak of food.”

“Appetizing.”

“Says the man who eats pork rinds.”

“I do not.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t.”

“Okay.”

Brian didn’t say another word. So what, he liked deep-fried fat. It’s not like he ate them every day. “Did you talk to your mother?”

“Yeah. She’s worried over nothing.”

“Really? So unlike a Taylor to do that.”

“Fuck you. Molly thinks she’s ready to go away to college.”

“Mother Taylor disagrees?”

“She wants her to stay home for a couple more years. Like, thirty or so.”

“Sounds reasonable.”

“She’s still got issues.”

“No shit.”

“She wants to go to Arizona State.”

“Why?”

“She got in. It’s warm. She’s always cold. A friend of hers goes there. It’s two thousand miles away from Pittsburgh.”

“All good reasons.”

“She’s gonna get a job and share an apartment with her friend.”

“She’s twenty.”

“A friend she met online.”

“So?”

Justin sighed. “So she’s another one of those crazy bitches who so caringly ‘helped’ her when she got out of the Waverly Center.”

“But she’s over that.”

“I guess.”

“She’s not?”

“I don’t fucking know. She looks okay to me. But then she looked okay to me last year and then her heart almost stopped.”

“So she just stays with your mother forever?”

“Didn’t you tell me once I was too young to have a teenaged daughter.”

“Who knows? Sounds like me.”

“So I’m letting Mom handle this one.”

“Good plan.”

“Not you. Mom.”

Brian put his hands up. “I wasn’t offering.”

“You can help with Aaron.”

“What the fuck’s wrong with Aaron?”

“He wants to get an apartment. Says a sophomore shouldn’t be living in the dorms.”

“Let him figure out how he’s gonna pay for it.”

“Ready for this? Lee offered him his spare room.”

Brian laughed. “I give it a week.”

“Less. But if he gives up his dorm space, then he’ll end up on our sofa.”

“We don’t have a sofa yet.”

“And when we do…he’s not living on it.”

“And I can help how?”

“You used to have really good arguments against people living together.”

“They don’t work on Taylor twinks.”

“Took us nine years.”

“Well hopefully Aaron won’t be in college for nine years.”

“I know you’re helping Alicia with tuition.”

“Helping Aaron. And it’s a loan.”

“Plus it’s cheaper because he’s using my address to get in state tuition.”

“Aaaah the joys of brotherly fraud.”

“ _Significantly_ cheaper.”

“When did you get so careful about my money?”

“Since it became _our_ money.”

“I knew that joint checking thing was a bad idea.”

“It’s necessary.”

“You sure?”

“Fuck. Do we HAVE to do this?”

“No.”

“Good.”

“Construction starts Monday?”

“The major stuff, yeah.”

“I’ll sleep at the office.”

“Uh uh. Rules say you come home.”

“Are the guys hot?”

“But we’re paying them so you can’t fuck them.”

“Right.”

“Fuck them if you want. But if you come all over the blueprints we have to explain to the building association why everything is taking longer.”

“Damn.”

“And they were just starting to like you.”

“They loved you.”

“That’s because I seem nice at first. Most people don’t stop liking me for a long time.”

“It’s just about the time people start liking me.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s so fucked up.”

“What about us isn’t?”  
  


“Nothing.”

“Becca, Lee and Matt are coming for brunch on Sunday. So are Cynthia and Jamison.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Good reason.”

“You’re going to be here.”

“I have plans.”

“Cancel them.”

“They’re important.”

“You can go to they gym later.”

“Fuck.”

“Sorry.”

“Did you order?”

“Yeah, it’s in the fridge.”

“Want some?”

“Not hungry.”

“When you’re in San Francisco, I’m going up to see Gus and Lindsay.”

“Okay.”

“You could fly straight into Toronto and spend a couple days there.”

“Maybe, have to see what my schedule looks like. Gus is okay though right?”

“Hope so.”

“Fucking Michael.”

“Don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s taking all my energy to get over it.”

“Thought you said you couldn’t.”

“Not sure I can.”

“You probably will.”

“This was…”

“He shouldn’t have.”

“I know.”

Brian was popping sushi into his mouth and Justin leaned his head against Brian shoulder. “Gus loves you.”

“I know.”

“Michael loves you too.”

“Not so sure.”

They sat in silence and Brian chewed slowly. Justin wasn’t so sure either. 


	4. Chapter 4

  
Author's notes:

comments welcom at my LJ

http://vamphile.livejournal.com/

* * *

****

****

* * *

****Keeping It Together** **

****Chapter Four** **

****

* * *

Justin had passed out after their last round of fucking. Brian was smoking a cigarette and watching him sleep. It was starting to sink in that this was permanent. This was not an extended visit. This was real. It should be more scary. It should be terrifying. It felt right. 

Brunch had gone well enough. Cynthia snarked, and seemed to find Justin’s friends amusing. Jamison actually turned out to be smarter than Brian had originally given him credit for. He could handle irony, sarcasm and close a deal smoothly. He was worth what Brian had paid to steal him from a rival firm.

They’d done some shopping later in the afternoon. Found an area rug neither of them hated. It was a fucking miracle. He wondered how Justin had put up with the loft for all those years when his tastes were so very different. Okay, not VERY different, just… not exactly like his. Brian shook his head clearing his thoughts and was stubbing out a cigarette when he saw Justin's hand do that thing. It had been happening more lately. Just a small tremor. But usually it happened after four or five hours with a pencil or a mouse under it. Justin hadn’t gone near his office or his studio all day. He hadn’t gone near his studio all week but that was a different issue.

Brian watched as Justin's fingers clenched in his sleep. He heard him whimper and then his hand relaxed and he turned a little, still asleep. Probably nothing. Dogs dream about chasing rabbits. Justin was probably dreaming about working on something other than floor plans. Brian wasn’t tired yet. He got up and wandered around the empty space. 

The work was starting tomorrow… there wasn’t too much of it. Some design thing that hid the TV and electronic equipment. Some built in storage or whatever. It looked good on paper and he trusted Justin with this shit. Justin did it for a living. Besides, he’d seen the renovations to the loft. And a few more changes over the years. The place was pretty fucking spectacular now. He had a feeling that his input on this would just fuck it up. 

It was barely midnight. Brian considered looking over the Remson stuff again but there was nothing left to do. The meeting was tomorrow and he was pretty confident they’d like it. He paced the space in dim light and realized he had nothing to worry about at the moment. It should make him feel relaxed. It should make him feel mellow. He felt like he was falling. It was a lovely peaceful floating feeling… and when he landed, it was gonna hurt like a bitch. The problem was he still couldn’t see the ground. 

Brian chuckled. _Now who’s creating drama for the sake of drama?_ he asked himself. There would be a problem, of course. He was living with Justin. There would be problems. No reason to go looking for them.

He went back to bed and Justin moved closer to him in his sleep. It was all okay.

Justin woke up before Brian the next morning. He was still tired but a migraine had taken hold in the middle of the night. He’d tried to ignore it but it was now a white-hot pain behind his eyes. He stumbled to the bathroom, took a pill and filled the sink with cold water. 

Brian found him soaking his entire head in the sink.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Justin straightened up, water still dripping off his face. “Headache. I think I need to just saw off the top of my head and pour ice around my brain.”

Brian handed him a towel. “You take something?”

“Yeah. I’m going back to bed.”

Justin pulled the covers over his head but then the warmth started to feel like heat and the close air made him feel nauseas. He inched the covers down a bit and waited. The need to vomit passed. Then came back. Brian was in the shower. Justin almost didn’t make it to the guest bathroom before he threw up. He grabbed the wastebasket and brought it with him back to bed. This was gonna be a rough one.

He felt the bed dip and bit back a moan.

“You okay?”

Justin tried to nod, but that hurt. “Fine.”

“Want something?”

“Guillotine?”

“Fresh out.”

“Ice pick?”

“Sorry.”

“Go ‘way.”

Brian kissed his temple and Justin tried not to flinch. He opened his eyes and the light seemed to be maliciously attacking him. He closed them again. “Go ‘way.”

Brian got up, stroking Justin's hair softly. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Go ‘way.” Justin mumbled again, wondering what part of that phrase Brian was not understanding.

He heard Brian moving around the room. “Go. Away.” He said a little more firmly.

“Just pulling the shades. Sleep. Call me when you feel better.”

Justin made a small grunt of acknowledgement and sighed when he heard the door close behind Brian. 

Several hours later Justin woke up again and carefully opened his eyes. Everything still seemed too bright. The shades were drawn. Very little light was filtering into the room but it was still too much. He pulled a pillow over his head and tried to think of something other than the pain. It wasn’t working. He made it to the kitchen but felt dizzy as he leaned against the counter. He grabbed an icepack from the freezer and tried to get to the bedroom before he fell. An hour after that the noise of construction started. 

“Fuck.” He looked at the clock. It was only eleven am. He couldn’t spend all day with this noise. He pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt, grabbed his darkest sunglasses and tried to move slowly enough to prevent jarring his head any further.

When he was in the elevator he realized he wasn’t sure where he was going. He called Matt. 

“Hey.”

“Construction at my place. Migraine. You home?”

“Come by, Becca’s out for the day.”

“Soon.”

Justin stumbled up the stairs and Matt said nothing. He’d seen these a few times…they seemed to wipe Justin out. “You bring your meds?”

Justin shook his head and winced at the feeling. “Shhh.”

Matt nodded silently and moved back to his computer. Justin would crash on Becca’s bed, which was his old bed anyway, and hopefully be okay in a couple of hours.

A couple of hours later he wasn’t okay. Justin sat up and tried to find a clock. When he could finally focus he realized it had been nine hours since he’d taken his first pill and the headache from hell wasn’t leaving. He needed another but they were at home. He went to the bathroom hoping maybe he’d left some when he’d moved. He hadn’t. Matt found him a half hour later sitting on the floor his head pressed against the cool surface of the tub.

“Gimme your keys. I’ll go get your meds.”

Justin made a weak gesture towards his old room. “Nightstand.”

Matt nodded and pulled on a jacket.

He was in Brian and Justin’s new place, heading towards the bathroom when Brian startled him. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Um, Justin has a headache.”

“I know.”

“The construction was too loud he crashed at my place.”

“So what the fuck are you doing here?”

“He left his medicine here.”

Brian nodded and grabbed the bottle of pills. “Let’s go.”

Matt didn’t argue. What was the point?

They were in a cab, heading back towards Chelsea. “He get them a lot?”

“Not too often. At least not this bad.”

Brian was silent again. They found Justin where Matt had left him. Brian kneeled beside him and Matt went back to his computer. 

“Justin.”

“You’re here?”

“You weren’t answering your phone.”

“Headache.”

“You look green. You eat anything?”

Justin looked greener at the thought. “Emergency room?”

Justin shook his head once and winced. “Gimme my pills.”

Brian handed him one. 

“Two.”

Brian handed him another. “You had one like this last week.”

“Shhhh. Hurts.”

Brian pulled Justin slightly, trying to get him up off the bathroom floor. Justin resisted. “Gonna puke. Leave me here.”

“Gotta hold down the pills. Can’t puke for an hour.”

“Go to work.”

Brian sat next to him, smoothing his hair off his temple in long slow strokes. 

“Fuck.”

“I know.”

“Shhhh.”

Brian didn’t say anything else. He just sat and watched Justin wince occasionally.

Eventually Justin fell asleep and Brian moved to the sofa waiting for him to wake up. 

“They’re bad again?” Matt asked.

“Again?”

“Last year. Over the summer. He had one for three days. Then he kind of had them a lot for almost two months. Like once or twice a week. Then they stopped.”

Brian nodded. Justin hadn’t told him that. Last summer… he’d had Gus with him for a couple of weeks. Justin had been working with HikeNow on their fall campaign. They’d gone almost an entire month without seeing each other and Justin never did make it to Pittsburgh to see Gus. He wondered if Justin had been as busy as he’d said or if he was just sitting in the dark trying not to hurt.

He was still wondering when Justin emerged from the bathroom. Matt raced in and closed the door. “Thank fucking god, I’ve had to pee for an hour.”

Justin moved shakily towards Brian. “Thanks.”

“You okay now?”

“Still hurts but I think I’ll live.”

“You’re supposed to try to eat something.”

“Bagel.”

Brian moved towards the kitchen and found a couple of bagels he brought one over to Justin who took one bite and looked green again. He handed it back to Brian. “Not ready.”

“Water?’

Justin shook his head. “The construction guys gone?”

“Probably, it’s after five.”

“I need to get some work done.”

“Uh uh. You need to rest.”

“Been asleep all day.”

Brian shrugged. “Can you look at a computer screen?”

“I have to.”

They said goodbye to Matt and headed home. “Sorry.”

“You said that already.”

“I did?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Well, then thanks.”

“Said that too.”

“Shhhh.”

Brian kissed his temple again. “You didn’t tell me they’d gotten worse.”

“Shhhh.”

They didn’t talk about it again that night. They didn’t talk about anything that night. By the time Justin finished what little he could do without bringing on another bout of intense pain he was ready to do something that didn’t hurt at all.

The next morning Brian did bring it up again. “So have you talked to your doctor?”

“Doctor?”

“Headaches, caused by brain damage. Annual checkups.”

“Oh I stopped those years ago.”

“What?”

“They just look and say ‘all clear’ and then charge like five hundred bucks.”

“So you decided that you didn’t need a doctor to tell you it was all clear.”

“Seemed like a waste of money.”

“Except you’re not exactly all clear.”

“People get headaches. You get migraines.”

“Not for three days.”

“I haven’t had a three day migraine in months.”

“Months?”

“Months.”

“And how often to you have ones like yesterday?”

“Yesterday wasn’t so bad. Only needed two pills.”

“Three.”

“Whatever. First one doesn’t count.”

“Aaaah, Taylor logic. Good stuff.”

“Brian. It’s a headache. It’s not brain cancer.”

“How do you know?”

“Because if it were brain cancer it wouldn’t hurt.”

“You looked up the symptoms of brain cancer.”

“ _you_ lay in bed for three days unable to eat or move and see what diseases you diagnose yourself with.”

“No thanks. I can think of better reasons to stay in bed for three days.”

“So can I.” Justin rolled on top of Brian. “Let’s stay in bed for three days.”

“If I didn’t have a meeting in two hours I’d say yes.”

“So lets at least stay in bed for three orgasms.”

Brian laughed and ran a hand through Justin’s hair. “That I can do.”

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

A week later construction was still going. The place was starting to take shape and Justin had the day off to help Aaron move. He was still complaining about living in the dorms.

“Beats living with your mother.”

“No shit.”

“So suck it up.”

“I don’t understand why I can’t get a place.”

“Because you can’t afford one. Because living with your fuck buddy is a bad idea. Because I said so.”

“Right. You said so. You’re more controlling than Brian.”

“If you think so.”

“Brian’s the nice one.”

“If you think so.”

“You’re just mad that I’m in New York.”

“What?”

“You don’t want to share him.”

Justin almost dropped the box he was carrying he was laughing so hard. 

“Stop laughing.”

“You think I’m what? Jealous of you and Brian.”

“You sooo are.”

“I thought you had us all figured out.”

“Pfft. Like that’s possible. But you get pissed off when I’m around.”

“You don’t know what I’m like when you’re not around. I’m always pissed off.”

“Really?”

“Pretty much.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause it’s fun. Shut up and let’s go get the last of your stuff.”

“I didn’t bring that much. Not a lot of space.”

“But you somehow managed to make it all weigh a ton.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to make you work hard.”

“Fuck you.”

“Lee isn’t my fuck buddy.”

“So what is he?”

“Just a friend.”

“Who you fuck.”

“Sometimes.”

“Aaron. Seriously, are you sure you’re gay? That’s the definition of fuck buddy.”

“So?”

“So it’s a really bad habit to get into.”

“Having a fuck buddy?”

“No. Defining relationships incorrectly.”

“So this is a lesson in semantics?”

“Sure. Let’s call it that.”

“From a guy who’s married but won’t even say the word boyfriend without like fifteen qualifiers.”

“That’s not me. That’s him.”

“Mmm hmm.”

“You’re doing that thing again.”

“I am not. You think I am because you think I still don’t know shit. But I do.”

“Yes, you’re very wise.”

“Smarter than you.”

“Pfft.”

“Hey, at least I’ll have a college degree.”

“We’ll see.”

“You don’t think I’m gonna make it?” Aaron was sitting on the bed now looking a little concerned. 

“Aaron, you’ll be fine. You’ll study, you’ll party, you’ll hate it. You’ll love it. You’ll graduate or Brian will kick your ass.”

“Him and my mom both.”

“Exactly.”

“What’s his thing about a college degree?”

“Gives you options. He hates not having options.”

“You didn’t get one.”

“My options kept me from needing one.”

“That’s so cool.”

“Opinions vary.”

“What if my roommate hates me?”

“Lots of people hate you.”

“Yeah but I don’t have to live with them.”

“If he hates you… we’ll kick his ass.”

“Yeah, that’s a good way to make friends. What is it with you and punching people.”

“I really only do it when I’m around you.”

“So I do piss you off.”

“No, then I’d be punching you.”

“Well, probably best that you don’t. I’d have to kick your ass.”

“Pfft.”

“You’re old. I could take you.”

“I’m old, but I’m still your big brother. Trust me I’d win.”

“Mmm hmmm keep thinking that.”

“Aaron.”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t fuck your roommate.”

“What if he’s hot?”

“Still a bad idea.”

“You know, for a married guy who fucks around a lot, you are weird about who I should and shouldn’t fuck.”

“Part of my charm.”

“You have charm?”

“Nice laptop.”

“Brian bought it for me.”

“I figured.”

“It was a present for getting in.”

“Mmm hmm.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“I believe you play him and he lets you.”

“So? That’s between him and me.”

“So I’ll stay out of it. Except…”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Justin smirked.

“What?”

“Nothing. You coming to brunch next Sunday?”

“I don’t know.”

“Lee will be there.”

“I’ll see him before Sunday. He’s taking me out tonight.”

“So that fake ID I made you still works.”

“You have the best graphics computer. You know we could make a mint around here with your skills.”

“Yeah, cause that’s what I need. To be known as the fake ID guy.”

“Could help with my social life.”

“Like you need help. How many boyfriends did you have last year at ACC?”

“Not that many.”

“Mmm hmmm.”

“Six.”

“In eight months.”

“They get boring and clingy.”

“No shit.”

“Lee’s not boring or clingy.”

“So you want more than a fuck buddy thing with him?”

“No. Maybe. No. He’s too old.”

“Yeah, old guys suck.”

“Fuck you. We can’t all marry the crypt keeper.”

“You wanna see if I can take you? Call me married one more time.”

“Old married man, married to an older married man.”

Justin attacked him then. Then were wrestling each other more playfully than anything when Justin finally had him pinned to the floor. “Take it back.”

“No.”

“Take it back or I’m cutting you off. I’ll report your real address.”

“Pfft. Then you and Brian will just end up paying MORE for me to go here.”

“No, you’ll have to move out and go home and return to the community college of your dreams.”

“You’re so married.”

“You’re so dead.”

Justin found the spot on his ribs that was ticklish and Aaron finally yelled “I give I give.” Justin backed off smiling when a guy carrying three duffle bags and a box kicked open the door. He dumped his stuff on the opposite bed. 

“You sure?” Aaron asked Justin. Justin glared at him. “Positive.” 

The guy WAS hot, for a barely legal kid but it would be all kinds of messy if Aaron fucked around with him.

The guy stared at the two of them. “I’m Cal.”

“Aaron. This is my brother. He was just leaving.”

“Yeah. Hi Cal. Bye Cal.” Justin looked to Aaron. “You know where you’re headed tonight?”

“Like I’d tell you if I did.”

“I can find out from Matt.”

Aaron sighed. “See you there, maybe.”

Justin handed him an envelope. “For you know… stuff.”

Aaron smiled. “Stuff is good.”

Justin left and Aaron shoved the envelope in his back pocket. He knew it was at least a couple hundred dollars. Justin may be a pain in the ass of a brother, but he had his uses sometimes.

Justin took a cab back home and settled in for a long day of ignoring the sounds of electric sanders and pneumatic nail guns and tried to concentrate on the dimensions and specs of the San Francisco place he was going to visit next week. This could be huge for him. Expanding to other cities would open more possibilities. 

As he thought about that he considered what the fuck he’d do with more clients. He also was beginning to suspect that he actually needed more than just his digital lifekeeper. He may actually need a real live assistant. Someone to field calls and take messages and file some of this shit, and maybe handle some of the inspections. 

His lifekeeper had been a gift to himself when he’d landed the warehouse to apartment layout job last year. It was top of the line then, and still did everything he needed. Schedules, emails, phone calls, address and phone lists, mp3 and video player, digital camera, all fit into his back pocket. Brian mocked him about it for three days. Then bought himself one. Justin laughed at him then. Now he just found it convenient to be able to get in touch with Brian via email or phone whenever he wanted. Saved time in the long run.

He was debating the whole actual assistant thing, and realizing that he didn’t want anyone here. In their home. So then he was talking about office space. He could afford it. Martin had been telling him forever to get separate workspace. He just didn’t want to. Didn’t want to be the guy who got up every morning and put on appropriate work attire and drank coffee in his office while he… well, while he did what he normally did right here in sweat pants, barefoot.

He focused on finding a way within the architect’s specs to fit another bathroom in where they wanted one without running additional plumbing when his hand shook.

He was holding the mouse at the time and suddenly the commode was sitting next to the kitchen sink. He started to laugh. He was still laughing when Brian came home a half hour later.

“Aaron all settled in?”

“Let’s just hope his roommate’s not gay.”

“That hot?”

“In a young, twink kind of way.”

“Yeah I hate those.” Brian said his hand sliding down Justin's back and his fingers slowly insinuating themselves under the waistband of his jeans. “So what’s so funny?”

“Nothing. I had a hand tremor and ended up designing a crack den by accident.”

“You’re working too hard.”

“Just got home about an hour ago.”

“You help Aaron carry all that stuff.”

“This isn’t about my hand.”

“It’s about your head.”

“I’m fine.”

“I know.”

“So I’m leaving in a couple of days for California. You still going up to see Gus?”

“Yeah. As long as Michaels not gonna be there.”

“He wouldn’t be there anyway. He’ll be at Mel’s with JR.”

“True.”

“You really won’t be in the same room with him.”

“Pretty happy not to be in the same state as him.”

“Wow. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Never thought he’d do something that fucking malicious.”

“I’m not a big Michael defender. You know that. But I don’t think he knew what he was doing was malicious.”

“Bullshit. He either knew and did it anyway. Or didn’t know and therefore didn’t think about what he was doing and what the effects would be. Either way. He can fuck off.”

“What’s Deb say?”

“She says I should forgive him. He meant well.”

“Did he?’

Brian sat in the chair across from Justin’s desk. “I don’t know. I really don’t think so. I think he meant well for himself.”

“Becca’s teaching intro to soc. At NYU.”

“I care because?”

“Aaron’s taking intro to soc.”

Brian laughed. “He’s being graded by his brothers hag.”

“She’s not my hag.”

Brian lifted an eyebrow. “Okay, she’s kind of my hag. But only because Daphne fucking married that limey bastard.”

“You’re so weird about everyone else’s dating habits.”

“They live in Wales.”

“So?”

“That’s really far.”

“You made it to the wedding.”

“Like I’d miss that.”

“You want to go back and see her?”

“Huh?”

“March. I’ve got ten days free. We can visit your hag. We can do the whole Brit tourist thing.”

“You want to do a tourist thing?”

“No, but I want to fuck you on Stonehenge.”

“Wow. You’re quite romantic in your way.”

“Should I have Cyn book it?’

“Let me check my schedule. I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Brian watched Justin's hand tremor again. “Do me a favor?”

“Not going to a doctor.”

“I was gonna say, get in the shower, we’re supposed to meet Matt and Becca and Lee later.”

“It’s still early.”

“Jamison wants us to meet someone. I was hoping you’d join us for dinner.”

Justin narrowed his eyes. “Is the guy a neurologist?”

“No, he’s a media wonk that Jamison has a thing for.”

Justin’s eyes were tiny slits now. “This is a double date?”

“Only if you want to give it more meaning. The guy has this whole following and is thinking of getting the word out. He’s a possible client.”

“So why am I there?”

“Oh Jamison wants to fuck him.”

“So it IS a date.”

“I don’t do dates so it couldn’t possibly be.”

“Good point.”

Brian was standing in front of Justin now, offering his hand. “C’mon sunshine. Lets get you squeaky clean.”

“Sounds like a lot less fun than getting down and dirty.”

“You really are a slut.”

“I thought that’s why you liked me.”

“It is.”

“So quit your bitching and fuck me.”

“Yes sir.”

Justin raised an eyebrow. “Is it my turn to be sir?’

“No. I don’t think it is little boy.”

Justin’s knees suddenly felt wobbly. “Yes sir.” 

Brian smiled lasciviously and pushed Justin into the bedroom where he kicked the door shut behind him. 

There were still construction noises. The guys were staying late to make up for some lost time due to neighbors complaining about the early starts. Justin was standing still in the middle of the room and Brian let his eyes really take him in.

Yeah, he was older. His shoulders a little broader. His muscles a little more defined since he’d invested in one of those new bowflex ultra things. He was also still bizarrely young looking. Still young enough to get carded often. Still young looking enough for it to seem almost real the way he fell into little boy mode when he wanted to. And he obviously wanted to tonight. He was hard. His jeans accentuated that more than covering it.

He was waiting and Brian gruffly ordered him to strip. “Why are you still wearing clothes? Bad boy.” He watched Justin inhale sharply at the words and never took his eyes of Justin’s body as his shaking fingers left his clothes in a heap on the floor.

“You’re hard.”

Justin nodded, head still down but Brian could see him smirking. Justin wanted to play? Fine. He could play too. Play until Justin was shaking and begging and nowhere near smirking anymore. He took a step forward. Still in his suit and tie. “What should I do with you?”

“Whatever you want.” Justin said quietly.

“Hmmm.” Brian circled him slowly, seeming to consider his options. His hand ran down Justin’s back and stopped at his ass where he landed a hard smack. He heard Justin gasp. “I think you like that.”

Justin nodded mutely. 

Brian did it again and Justin leaned forward, grabbing the edge of the bed as he pushed his ass out towards Brian's hands. “So desperate for it.” Brian kissed his neck. “Are you my wet little boy/’

Justin’s face was red and he was staring at his hands. Brian spanked him again. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes.” It was almost a whisper.

“Wet and hard for me.”

“Yes.”

Brian pushed a lubed finger inside him and Justin pushed back against it. “I’m not sure you deserve this kind of attention when you’re so disobedient.”

Justin wanted to raise his head and argue. He knew Brian was talking about going to the doctor but then he knew all he wanted was to see this through. “I’m sorry sir. I’m a bad boy.”

Brian did his best not to react, but his cock was hard and Justin spread his legs Justin a little wider. He pulled off his belt, leaving the rest of his clothes on. He doubled it over. “You want this?’ He folded the belt in half and pulled it together quickly, letting the sound of leather against leather reverberate through the room.

Justin gasped, and flinched even though no contact had been made. 

“Do you want this?” Brian repeated, this time leaning in close to Justin’s ear. “Yes. Please. Sir.”

Brian smiled and kissed his neck. There are people outside. Do I have to gag you?

Justin shook his head. “I’ll be good.”

Brian ran a hand gently down the curve of Justin’s ass and pushed his thumb into the well-slicked hole. He use his fingers to brush against Justin’s sac and knew in a few moments the kid was gonna come. He felt his breathing grow more rapid. Felt his body contract around his finger and he pulled out and started with the belt. He kept it doubled over. The sound was louder than the blows and added to the feeling.

Justin was moving now. Standing on his toes, shaking his ass trying to get Brian to aim at another spot but he kept his assault against the soft flesh of Justin’s ass, hitting the same area over and over again until he finally relented and moved lower. Justin’s squirming became more pronounced and Brian stopped and put an hand between Justin’s legs, feeling his wet cock against his palm. “Like this Justin. Come for me like this.”

“Don’t stop” he heard Justin breathe out.

“I’ll finish once you’ve come for me.”

“Please.”

“Come for me little boy.”

Justin was rocking against Brian’s hand. His thighs gripping Brian's arm and when he finally came he collapsed on the bed.

“Up.”

Justin moved quickly, resuming his position and Brian continued to torment Justin with stinging slaps from his hand followed by a soft gentle caress until he knew Justin was hard again. He turned him around then and Justin lowered to sit on the edge of the bed, he unzipped Brian's fly and his mouth was on him. Brian's knee was between Justin’s thighs and Justin was rubbing his cock against his leg. Letting himself enjoy the friction of the soft wool of Brian's suit while his mouth provided the hot wet suction Brian wanted.

Justin’s hands wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, releasing their grip and Brian thrust into Justin’s mouth and Justin made sure his tongue was still servicing him while he continued to hump Brian's leg.

Justin came first and then leaned his head back a bit and Brian sank deeper into his mouth, fitting tightly against the back of his throat.

He came then. And Justin swallowed all of it, pulling Brian closer again, keeping his softening dick in his mouth.

When Justin sucked hard at the receding erection and licked his lips Brian could swear he was ready to go again. He kissed Justin’s forehead. “My very good little boy.”

Justin blushed and Brian smiled and they make their way into the shower where Brian finally fucked Justin. Justin came a third time. 

They were both in a good mood when they took off to meet Jamison and his political wonk for dinner.

**~**~**~**~**~***~**~**~*~*~*

A week later Justin was heading off for San Francisco. “Just think, when I get back, we’ll have furniture.”

“Unless I send it all back because I realized how ugly it is.”

“You. Like. The. Furniture.”

“I like the guy who picked it.”

“Bullshit, you barely like yourself.”

“We’re not discussing your perceived issues with my self esteem and I was talking about _you_ twat.”

“I didn’t pick the furniture, my sugardaddyclubfreakchildmolester whatthefuckever boyfriend or something did.”

“We really should find a single word. You’re gonna lose your voice.”

“I’d rather lose that than you. What we have works.”

Brian leaned in and kissed him. “The cab’s waiting. Call me when you get there.”

“Or if I’m bleeding in a field.”

“Or if the plane goes down over one of the great lakes.”

“I could end up on a mountain pass like the Donner party.”

“I hear it tastes just like chicken.”

Justin kissed him again. “I’ll be back soon.”

“I know. All your furniture’s coming.”

“ _your_ furniture.”

_our_ furniture.” Brian smiled and Justin put his forehead against Brian's shoulder for a moment. Then he straightened up, threw his bags in the cab and slid in. 

Brian watched the cab drive off and headed upstairs to change. He was going out. He could not sit at home all night waiting for Justin’s call. He could not be that man.


	5. Chapter 5

  
Author's notes:

feedback here or at

http://vamphile.livejournal.com/

* * *

****

****

* * *

****Keeping It Together** **

****Chapter Five** **

****

* * *

Brian's eyes were closed. The guy was good, really good. The sounds of other men fucking, the smell of other men fucking, and the deep thump of bass. This is why back rooms were invented. He felt the cool of the cinderblock against the back of his head. He felt the tricks hair in his fingers and he let the orgasm wash over him. Then he zipped up and headed back to the bar.

It wasn't Babylon… of all the things he missed about Pittsburgh Babylon was probably at the top of the list. Babylon felt as much like home as the loft…and the loft had Justin, so it didn't matter if they were in the loft of in their new place, as long as Justin was there. Clubs were a different story. He downed a quick shot and leaned against the bar drinking his beer and pretending he didn't miss Michael.

Once Michael and Ben had gotten past the honeymoon phase, and Babylon had re-opened, Michael had found the time to make it once or twice a week. Even Emmett migrated from Boy-Toy, bringing Gordon and his friends with him. He’d over hyped the place a bit. For a scary time after it first opened it had become the cool spot for hetero's to show their acceptance of the gay lifestyle. 

Brian smiled as he remembered the over the top, and probably downright frightening events he'd orchestrated to scare them away. It had worked. Or they had found a new way to prove they didn't care who fucked whom. Either way it had become more than a successful business venture. It had become his playground again. 

He missed it. He didn't miss Aaron. Well, not Aaron at Babylon. The kid invented the fucking concept of pushing limits. It was nice to be able to lean against a bar and NOT have someone tugging at his shirt asking him to approve another beer or whatever. 

He was busy not thinking about Michael when he felt a tug on his shirt. "Fuck. What are you doing here?"

"Some friends from school and I are celebrating."

"Celebrating what?"

Aaron shrugged. "Wednesday?"

Brian smiled. "Not my club. Knock yourself out."

"Dance with me."

"Dance with yourself."

The guys behind him were staring and Brian ignored 

them. He decided to ignore Aaron too and walked away to pull a guy into the back room. Aaron could fend for himself.

Brian finished with the guy and found a spot at the end of the bar. He considered leaving before Aaron talked him into paying for his drinks but refused to let the younger Taylor twink chase him out of… well, anywhere. He spotted Aaron dancing with his friends. It was habit, he realized, to keep an eye on him. New York was a huge fucking city, couldn't the kid find a club further from their place? 

He saw Aaron surreptitiously glance his way and ordered another shot. That kid needed someone ELSE to pay attention to him. He was tired of being the fucking babysitter. And yet he knew if Aaron knew he was watching he'd try something stupid. So until he could make sure Aaron knew he _wasn't_ watching, he was forced to glance over occasionally. And as long as he was glancing over occasionally, Aaron assumed he _was_ watching and thus the cycle of twink patrol continued.

Brian told a couple of potential's to fuck off and lit a cigarette. Let them write him a ticket for smoking. He wasn't gonna stand here and watch history repeat itself without some nicotine in his system.

They guy Aaron was dancing with was gonna be the one 

Brian had to deal with. He could tell. Aaron had a lot of ways to show his interest. A smile, this thing he did with his eyes that Brian figured was either an inherited trait or a carefully studied maneuver he’d stolen from his brother, and there were the old standbys. A shake of the hips, a grind of the pelvis. A hand on the back of the neck.

When Aaron was really interested he did a combo move that rarely failed. When he was just fucking around he did a different move and Brian recognized it now. Sly smile. Glance from under his lashes. Quick wiggle, but no physical contact by hands or hips. The guy moved closer and Brian waited. Aaron kept dancing, kept smiling and Brian gritted his teeth when Aaron shot a quick look towards him and caught him looking back. Fuck. Brian could stalk over now. Tell the guy to fuck off and make it a relatively early evening…but then Aaron would follow him home and fire up the PS4 and neither of them would sleep. Halo7 was as fucking addictive as Marlboro reds. 

If he waited. Did some actual rescuing, there was a chance Aaron would find that sufficient attention and go back to his dorm. He waited. The guy didn't disappoint. He pulled Aaron closer. Aaron didn't pull away when the song changed.

Brian ordered another beer and a bottle of water for Aaron. He drank his slowly and watched as the guy offered Aaron something and he turned it down. At least the kid had stopped taking candy from strangers. No need to tell Justin about that phase of Aaron’s club life.

Something else the brothers had in common. A lack of common sense about discopharmacuticals. But that was a quick stint, a loud talking to, and Aaron's eventual acceptance of the fact that his drugs came from Brian or not at all. 

Since he couldn't get into any of the other clubs on Liberty Avenue anymore anyway, it wasn't like he had much of a choice.

Brian watched, as the guy got more insistent. Aaron took the drink he bought him. They moved on to light groping in front of the bar. They moved back to the dance floor and Brian just wanted the guy to hurry up and make his move so Aaron could say no and he could rescue the kid the way he wanted and go home. 

Finally Mr. Slow started to get pushy. Aaron shook him off. He whispered something in Aaron’s ear and Aaron seemed to actually be shocked and Brian moved in. Told the guy to fuck off. Handed Aaron the bottle of water and announced his own imminent departure. 

"Don’t take on anything you can't handle. I've got an early meeting."

"I didn't need your help."

"Okay."

"I didn't."

Aaron was following him. FUCK.

"Aaron, go dance with your friends. Stay away from the 

mean men with the bad candy and I'll see you next 

week." 

"But…"

Brian looked back at him. "What?"

"I found cheat codes for Halo7."

Brian sighed. "Tomorrow, no earlier than six. I've got a  
huge pitch in the afternoon." 

"You know if I had a key…"

"Talk to your brother."

"He’s away for two weeks."

"See you tomorrow."

"Buy me a beer first?"

Brian handed him a twenty. "Buy your own beer, your ID looks as real as mine."

Aaron smiled and danced his way back to the bar.

His phone rang just as he reached their building. 

"Not on the Donner pass."

"Bleeding in a field?"

"Not even swimming in lake eerie."

"How’s the hotel?"

"Generic. But whatever."

"You have client's lined up or is this just about the 

tradeshow?"

"Couple clients, hoping to get a few more through that 

whole networking thing."

"Good plan."

"Also…"

"Also?"

"Um…"

"Um?"

"Don’t get mad."

"So far I'm not."

"Don’t make a big deal."

"So far I haven't."

"You’re going to."

"Then fucking tell me so we can get it over with."

"There’s this guy."

"Guy?"

"Specialist."

"Lost me."

"New treatment for migraines. I have an appointment on

Friday."

"I'll be there."

"Brian it's in San Francisco."

"I'm not stupid Justin. I'll be there."

"It’s just some tests. Then he'll probably do that thing  
where you have to keep a journal of like what you eat and what you wear and who you fuck and all that bullshit to find triggers."

"You’ve done that before."

"No shit."

"So what does this guy know that the other doctors  
don't?"

"Can we talk about this when I get home?"

"We’ll talk about it when I get there."

"You’re gonna come watch me get a CT Scan?"

"Sure, sounds like fun. I haven't seen your brain up  
close and personal in a long time."  


"Gross."

"How long since you've had one?"

"Don’t come here."

"How long."

"Four years."

"So you stopped the annual exams when you moved to  
New York."

"Long story."

"No money for insurance, didn't want me to pay for it."

"Or not so long."

"Justin."

"Stop being angry."

"Stop putting your health on the back burner."

"Just headaches Brian. Not…"

"Yeah, not a tumor. But…"

"I know. Which is why I'm going."

"And why I'll be there." 

Justin sighed. "I'll email you the hotel info."

"No, I'll email you the NEW hotel info. I'm not staying in some generic dive."

"WAIT! You have the Remson meeting."

"Just a follow up. Tomorrow. No reason I can't grab a  
long weekend." 

"You have to be back. The furniture comes in a week."

"Yeah, I'd hate to not be here and have them take it all  
back."

"You. Love. That. Furniture."

"Saw Aaron tonight."

"You rescue him?"

"Don’t I always."

"I've tried to tell him to cut it out."

"That works."

"You should just…"

"Let him get in over his head?"

"He’d learn fast."

"Not letting your little brother get manhandled by some perv just to prove a point."

"You’d think he'd grow out of this by now."

"No. I wouldn't. At least you did."

"I never did shit like that in the first place."

Brian was finishing his cigarette outside the building and heading into the elevator. "I'm gonna lose you. No signal in here."

"I'll call back in five."

"Okay."

Brian was naked on the bed when Justin called back. If he'd said goodbye Brian would have known he was tired. He was calling back. He wanted something… Brian was more than happy to provide it.

"What are you wearing?"

Brian laughed. "Nothing. I'm just smoking a joint, laying in bed. "You?"

"Pretty much the same, except for the joint. Can't fly with that shit."

"That place at least have a minibar?"

"On my second gin."

"You’re hard." It wasn't a question.

"I am."

Brian laughed as he hit the button to receive the incoming IM… "You took a picture."

"I wanted you to know how hard."

“I appreciate the visual.”

“You’re really coming here?”

“Did you make the appointment in California just so I wouldn’t be there?”

“No. That’s where this guy is.”

“Stop touching yourself.” 

Justin groaned and Brian smiled. “I’m gonna fuck you.”

“Oh god.”

“Been called worse.”

“Stop being snarky when I’m trying to get off.”

“Put your fingers in your mouth.”

Brian heard the soft suction and Justin pulled his fingers out. “Put them where you want me to be.”

Justin was breathing hard and Brian was leaking on his own palm. “I’m inside you now. Fucking you slowly.”

“Faster.”

“Slow down.”

Justin whimpered. “You’re not getting off that easy. Tell me what you want.”

“You.” Justin’s voice was deeper now. Brian could picture the glazed look of desire in his eyes and it fueled his own fire.

“What do you want me to do to you?”

“I want you to rim me. I want to feel your tongue inside me. Fucking me. Making me crazy. I want you to put your hands all over me, mark me. Claim me.”

“That’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna rim you 'til you’re moaning like a whore. Gonna fuck you with my tongue until you’re begging for something more. Something bigger, harder, longer. And then I’m gonna split you in half. Watch you try and adjust. Watch you fight the pain 'til there’s nothing but you wanting me.”

“God Brian. Please.”

“Come for me. I want to hear you come with my tongue in your ass and my hand stroking you. Come for me.”

Justin wasn’t talking anymore, but Brian could hear him and just as the low moan came across the line he hit the button to see that Justin had managed to snap a quick photo while he came.

“Christ. Justin.” Brian gasped as his own hand and chest was covered with the results of a fast and furious orgasm. 

They were both breathing into the phone. Neither needing to speak. Neither wanting to break the connection. 

“I’m coming to the appointment.”

“I’ll be waiting at the hotel.”

“Be naked.”

“Be ready.”

“Sleep.”

“Mmmmmm”

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

Remson was thrilled with the changes. But then again, marketing this product wasn't really necessary. By the time Brian got out of the meeting it was after five.

By the time the cab made it's way from midtown to SoHo it was well after six. Aaron was waiting for him. 

  
  
"Hey."

"You bring the cheat codes?"

"Yep."

"You fuck your roommate yet?"

"He’s not gay."

"Guys have told me that, right before they sucked me  
off."

"Not everyone's gay."

"Guys have told me that right before I fucked them."

"Whatever."

"Brilliant rebuttal. How did you get in to NYU again?"

"The depth and emotion of my essay and I fucked the admissions guy."

Brian glared at him and Aaron smiled widely. "Gotcha."

Brian glared harder. "You didn't fuck him?"

"Guuuh, it was a girl."

"Woman." He corrected automatically. Too many years hanging out with Lindsay. "You've never fucked a girl?"

"Ewww, no."

Brian raised an eyebrow. 

Aaron crossed his hands across his chest. "I'm not fucking a girl that's gross." 

"Weren’t asking you to. Just surprised."

"Why? You've fucked a girl?"

"I have a son."

"Yeah but that was a turkey baster thing."

"Lindsay and I had a go once or twice."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Brian handed Aaron a beer and opened one for himself. They sat on the pillows and started the game. He took a long swallow from the bottle. "No clue."

"But Justin hasn't."

"Okay."

"Has he?"

"His story to tell."

"So he has."

"His story to tell."

"Still gross."

"Good to have options."

"You think fucking a girl is an option?"

Brian laughed. "I must be tired because I'm not stoned and this is a pointless conversation."

"Yeah…but… if…I…can…just…get…this…right…” Aaron's tongue was sticking out and his fingers were hitting buttons furiously. The screen went blank and then a new level appeared. "It worked!"

Brian smiled and they sat next to each other and shot the holy hell out of everything that moved. Slowly they got stoned. Eventually they ordered pizza. Brian loaded Aaron into a cab, paying the cabbie and giving him the address, not trusting Aaron to go straight home. 

He packed a bag and grabbed a few hours of sleep before his plane left. 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~

He stepped into the room and found his arms full of blonde horny and demanding twink. The door closed behind him as he leaned against it. Justin's mouth was on his. His hands were working at pulling off his sweater. Brian smiled into the kiss. He felt Justin’s mouth move lower and closed his eyes tangling his hands in his soft blonde hair. 

"Like the room?"

"Shut up."

Brian chuckled and then gasped as Justin’s hands and mouth became both accommodating and demanding at the same time. Justin pulled him forward and then took Brian deep into the back of his throat. Using his head to push him back and practically impale him on two spit slicked fingers. Brian was trapped. But he didn't mind. If he pushed forward he'd choke the kid. Justin's fingers were deep inside him and as he pushed back he felt him twist them and gasped. Justin didn't stop. His tongue, his lips his hands, all working together towards a single goal. They were done more quickly than Brian would have liked but it really wasn't his call this go round. 

He felt a little light headed as Justin stood up smiling and kissed him again. "I love the room." 

Brian stepped entirely out of his pants and walked Justin towards the bed. "Good."

"Brian."

"Shut up." He pushed Justin back against the mattress and began a slow burn seduction. He was methodical. Starting at Justin's ankles and kissing each spot on the inside of his leg. His calf, behind his knee, inside his thighs. He bypassed Justin's cock completely, planting the gentlest of kisses on his balls before he moved on to travel down the other leg. He heard Justin gasp. Watched out of the corner of his eye as he balled handfuls of sheet into his fists and tried to move himself closer to Brian's mouth.

Brian felt him twist slightly and knew Justin was beyond subtle. He was going to roll over, pushing himself forward, knowing that Brian could never resist. Brian spanned his waist and held him still. "You were in a hurry before. Lets go slow."

"Fuck slow."

"That’s what I'm doing."

"Brian."

"Don’t whine.”

"We have to be at the doctor's in less than an hour."

"Then we're wasting time talking."

Justin flopped his head back against the bed and tried  
to grit his teeth. It didn't work. His mouth was open, he was licking his lips and panting, but Brian wasn't moving in any particular hurry. When he reached Justin's ankle again he moved his entire body over Justin's smaller frame. He kissed Justin then, letting their cocks rub together while his mouth worked slowly on Justin's neck.

"He can't get a good read of my brain if you melt it."

"Brain’s melting?"

Justin nodded. Brian smiled. "Good. Burn off what ails you."

Justin dropped his head again. He'd played this game enough times to know that the harder he tried to speed things up, the more resolute Brian would be about taking his time. And he really could NOT miss this appointment. He'd had to pull a few strings to even get it and the guy was fitting him in for fifteen minutes. He tried to let his thoughts go. Tried to focus on Brian's painstaking attention to his body but all he could think about was what the doctor might find.

Brian looked up. "Stay with me."

"Here."

"No you're not."

"Trying."

Brian's face hovered over Justin's. Their eyes locked and he pushed slightly into Justin. The wide head of his cock stretching him open and keeping him that way as he stayed perfectly still. Justin whimpered and tried to move, to pull Brian further inside him. "You here now?"

"Here. Right here."

Brian kissed his forehead. "You’re fine."

Justin's breathing was ragged and when Brian said it… he knew it was true. He was fine. He ran a hand through Brian's hair. "I'm fine. Fuck me."

He still didn't speed up. Pushing slowly, inch by inch. Justin arched towards him, his hand finding his own erection and stroking it rapidly. Brian pulled out of their kiss and shook his head. "Slow down."

"We’ve got to…"

He pulled Justin’s hand away. "I said slow down."

Justin nodded and Brian let go. He thrust to the hilt then and Justin let out a sound that drove Brian to do it again. Justin's legs were wrapped around Brian's waist. His arms were around his back. Brian's tongue was sucking on Justin's in the same rhythm he was using to fuck him. Slow long strokes that made Justin almost weep each time he pulled back. And when Justin felt his orgasm build he let his hands fall to his sides and felt the energy course through him and then compress into a bright heat at his core. 

He exploded then and Brian followed. They both lay sweaty and sticky on the bed catching their breath.

"Thank you."

"For what?" Brian mumbled into Justin's neck.

"For that."

"Anytime." 

"We should shower."

"Probably."

"The office isn't far from here."

"You’re okay."

"I know. I just want the headaches to stop."

Twenty minutes later they were in a cab and heading towards the doctors office. "Where did you hear about this guy?" 

"I did some research, asked some people. Called my old doctor."

"They all said him?"

"What he's doing is experimental."

"What?"

"It’s kind of new, but he's been having some success."

Brian didn't say another word. He'd wait and address the issues once he knew if his concern was founded. 

The office was… a doctor's office. Old magazines, receptionist/nurses too busy to be bothered. A stack of forms to fill out. Justin was leaning the clipboard against his knee and checking boxes. Brian saw his hand tremble and wondered if he was wrong. He'd assumed Justin had made the appointment to keep him from nagging, but quite possibly the kid really was concerned about his own well-being. 

He knew it was profoundly wrong to do so. But he genuinely hoped that Justin was doing this to get him off his back. The idea that something might really be wrong was more than he thought he could handle

They went back together and Justin was weighed and measured and they got all the vitals. The nurse took some blood and then they waited some more. His appointment had been for three thirty. It was almost five when they were finally called.

It was another forty minutes before the doctor led them into his office. 

He was a tall thin man with hawkish features and seemed distracted. Justin and Brian sat and waited while he looked over the forms Justin had filled out.

“So you’ve been having headaches.”

Justin nodded.

“And you’ve been having them for years. Since the trauma.”

“Yeah. I got bashed.”

“The hand tremors that you’ve described. Are they always accompanied by a headache?”

“Sometimes. Usually. Not always.”

“But when you have these headaches. Are the hand tremors always present?”

Justin nodded again. “Yeah. They used to be worse. Then they got better. Now they’re worse again.”

“And are they interfering with your daily activities?”

“Not as much. I stopped doing some stuff.”

Brian looked over at Justin. “Stopped painting?”

Justin shrugged. “Not worth the effort.”

Brian frowned and Justin took his hand. “I can do other stuff.”

He said nothing.

“Mr. Taylor. My normal course of action would be to start you on medication to minimize the number of occurrences, and then prescribe something for particularly bad episodes….”

“But I’m allergic to everything.” Justin said defeatedly.

“Yes, your list of allergies is extensive but that’s not the reason I don’t recommend this treatment. There’s reason to believe that your migraines are specifically neurological in nature. That the motor pathways that were rebuilt after the trauma you suffered are malfunctioning.”

“My brain’s malfunctioning?”

“It sounds worse than it is.”

“So what do I do?”

“First we do a CT scan and possibly a 3D Resonant Imaging Study.”

“Why?”

“Because we need to see if there’s physical damage. A tumor is unlikely. Plaque buildup, or scar tissue could be the cause. Overuse usually brings on an episode?”

“No. Well, yes. Well, it used to. Now there’s no rhyme or reason.”

“And you’ve kept a journal to track what might trigger them?”

“I used to. I haven’t in a while. It was when I worked too hard with my hand. So I stopped that. Then it was if I stared too long at a computer screen. I tried to stop that, but it’s my job. Now it doesn’t seem to matter. I can spend the whole day sitting in the dark and still get a migraine the next day.”

“You feel them coming that far in advance?”

“Sometimes. Usually not. I’ll go to sleep with a slight cramp in my hand or my temple will throb. I take some aspirin and I wake up fine… or I don’t.”

The doctor nodded and made a few notes on his laptop. “I’m going to send you back to do the imaging and ask that you return on Monday so that we can discuss what we’ve found and what the options are.”

“That new technique…is there any chance it will work?”

Brian had been silent thus far. “What new technique?”

“It’s experimental, and it might, but it depends on what we find.”

“What is it?”

“Essentially it’s minor surgery.”

“Where?”

“On my head Brian, where do you think?”

“Minor brain surgery? That’s an oxymoron.”

“It’s just something people were using for fibromyalgia and a few other generalized pain disorders. The side effect was it got rid of their migraines.”

“By drilling a hole in your skull.”

“Kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“Well they drill the hole, and sort of … leave it.”

“They leave a hole in your skull?”

“We’re far from considering that option Mr. Taylor. And if we get there, I’ll be happy to explain, in more detail what’s involved and what the risks are.”

“Risks.” Brian was grinding his teeth and Justin squeezed his hand. “It’s okay.”

“Risks?” Brian addressed the doctor.

“As I said, we’re far from even considering this option. The first step is some simple imaging. Nothing invasive. It might be much less than we think.”

“What’s the best case scenario?” Brian asked. Justin sighed and Brian ignored him.

“It depends on your definition. Best case scenario, without surgery at all, is that we find a medication that is more effective for these episodes and concentrate on some Physical Therapy to retrain other parts of the brain to help to control the muscles that are not responding correctly.”

“And best case _with_ surgery?”

“That would be finding scar tissue or some other external contributing factor that’s removable.”

“So you’re saying best case. We medicate. Second best case is that we’re hoping for a brain tumor?”

“That’s a simplistic answer but yes.”

“Worst case?”

“We’re not ready to go there.”

“Worst case?”

“Worst case is that the external factor is not operable, which I highly doubt, or that there just isn’t any way to mitigate the pain. That the program you’re on is the best course of treatment at the moment.”

“So worst case to you is it stays the same.”

“No. It will get worse. It’s clearly degenerative.”

“So best case, I go through all that bullshit again, and maybe I get my hand back. Worst case. I never paint again.”

“That’s a little further into worst case than I’m ready to predict.”

“So when can I get this imaging done.”

“I have the equipment here. The nurses will take you back and your um…”

“Partner.” Brian added.

“Your partner can wait for you.”

“Can he come with me?”

“Unfortunately no, but this wont take long. Tell the nurse I want to see you Monday.”

“I have a trade show and some appointments on Monday. Can we make it Tuesday?”  
  


“We’ll be here Monday.” Brian said and stood up. “C’mon. Let’s see that pretty little head of yours from the inside.”

Justin rolled his eyes and the nurse led him further back into the building. Brian went out front and lit a cigarette trying to process what he’d just learned.

Justin wanted to see this guy because he was _hoping_ that drilling a hole in his head would work. Drilling a hole in his head seemed preferable to the pain he was in. He wasn’t painting. He’d stopped painting. He’d been having this issue for a year. The kid was in deep shit trouble. _Communication? Fine, tell me about the fuck buddy. Tell me about the meltdown of Zoë and Jared. Tell me about Molly and what you had for dinner and why you hated the new Jake Gyllenhal movie, but don’t bother to tell me your brain is disintegrating and your hand stopped working. Yeah…way to stick to the rules Sunshine._

He smoked another one and debated going in and forcing more information out of the doctor but he knew it was pointless. Besides the guy was probably already gone for the day. He tried to figure out what they were gonna do all weekend while they waited to hear how deeply they wanted to dig into Justin’s brain…or if there was anything worth digging for.

He paced. And smoked and didn’t even notice Justin when he came back out. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, this is your fault.”

“I should have told you.”

“No shit.”

“I didn’t know how.”

“My hand’s not working. Something’s wrong.” Brian said, illustrating how easily information could be shared.

“Mmm hmm. No possibility of overreaction there.”

“Is there a way to under react to your wanting to drill a hole in your skull.”

“I’m not buying a drill and doing it myself. Sheesh.”

Brian pulled him closer. “Communication on the little stuff is important. On the big stuff it’s fucking crucial.”

“Are you mad because I didn’t tell you or because I started to handle it myself.”

“You’re an adult. Handle it the way you want. But fucking keep me informed.”

“I will.”

“You’d better.”

“Like you’d let it go now.”

“Putting off the appointment so you can meet some pretentious fag and tell him where to put the guest bath? What the fuck?”

“If I’m gonna be out of commission for a while I need to fit as much in, and have as much lined up, as possible.”

“So you’re already planning on worst case scenario.”

“Even best case scenario is gonna leave me with a hole in my head.”

“No. There’s the chance that they can just do more PT and retraining.”

“Brian, what are the odds of that? With me. Poster child for useless broken faggot.”

“Hey!” Brian was holding him now. “Cut it out.”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, you should be.” Justin pulled back to see Brian's face…then he smiled.

“It’s really gonna be okay.”

Brian smiled but he knew he wasn’t fooling either of them. Just because it was gonna be okay didn’t mean it was gonna be easy. But then again, they could be worrying over nothing. Maybe they weren’t as bad as the doctor thought. Maybe he’d find nothing and…

Fuck. No matter what he found… Justin had lost a year of his work. He could lose more. He could lose it all. “Hungry?”

Justin shook his head. “I um… kind of have a headache.”

Brian nodded his head and they hailed a cab and headed back to the hotel. Justin lay back and fell asleep pretty quickly. Brian couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t stop watching Justin sleep. He couldn’t think beyond bloody silk scarves and baseball bats and Justin thrashing his way through a night of bad dreams and pain. 

“Not gonna happen.” He thought to himself and booted up his laptop to see what he could find. There was no way that the best treatment for a headache was another fucking hole in the kid’s head.

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

Justin woke up. It was dark. Brian was asleep next to him. He felt his hand tremble a little and slid away from Brian to stand up and shake out his stiff muscles. He looked down and appreciated the long graceful lines of Brian’s body. He wanted to sketch him. That was hardly new. He was afraid to. That was.

He riffled through is bag until he found a sketchbook and pencil and sat on the chair resting his feet on the bed and leaning the pad against his knees. He was working in half-light, unwilling to wake Brian. He was working in terror but refused to give in to it. 

He was close to finished when his hand started to give out. He put the sketch down and pressed his cramped fingers against his temple. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the book move. He looked up and Brian was holding it. Studying it. “Not bad.”

“Not good either.”

“You haven’t sketched me in a while.”

“I know.”

“Because you couldn’t.”

“I can sketch you in my sleep.”

“But you’re not sleeping. And I don’t think your fingers will actually make it through your skull, no matter how hard you try.”

“I just want to pop my eyeballs out for a few minutes and soak them in some ice water.”

“Lovely image.”

“Hurts.”

Brian moved closer and Justin slid from the chair to the bed, allowing Brian to comfort him. His back was pressed against Brian’s chest and long fingers were stroking his hair. “I wish I could still draw you all the time.”

“Thought you’d gotten bored with me.”

Justin moved his hand to meet Brian's. “Never. I just. It was too important.”

“You’ve got sketchbooks full of stuff.”

“But I didn’t care if I got those wrong.”

“Yes you did.”

“A little. But if I couldn’t draw you… it would be like giving up painting all over again.”

“Again?”

“Last summer. I finally had to accept that I couldn’t. I was doing okay, you know…with money. And decided to actually turn down a client who seemed more aggravating than artistic and was gonna take way more energy than I felt like putting in. I was… inspired.”

Brian didn’t say anything, one arm draped over Justin’s waist, holding Justin's hand. The other snaking out from under the pillow and stroking the hair off his forehead. He kissed the back of Justin’s head. “You’re allowed to say no.”

“Yeah. I kind of didn’t know that then… I do now. But it was… liberating. And suddenly, for the first time in a long time I was actually inspired to create something. I didn’t eat. I didn’t sleep. I just worked. For two days I did nothing but work on that canvas. It was just… I was in the zone. No brush stroke felt wrong. Everything felt so good. And then my hand cramped. I mean…”

“What?”

“It had cramped before but it was like, a spasm. I knocked over the easel. I dropped the brush full of paint. Matt’s never getting that security deposit back.”

Brian chuckled a little into Justin’s neck.

“Not funny. It was scary. Before. Right after the bashing. When I couldn’t get my gimp hand to do what I wanted… I could at least keep it from doing what I didn’t want. This was different. And then I just… went to sleep.”

Brian waited. He knew there was more to the story. 

“When I woke up… I’ve never wanted to be dead so badly in my life.”

Brian’s arm tightened around his waist.

“It hurt. The pain never stopped. Not for a moment. Sometimes the headaches come in waves. You get ten seconds, maybe even a minute of thinking it’s over…then it starts again. There was no respite. I ended up in the emergency room. They gave me a shot that knocked me out. They put me on fluids. I was dehydrated.”

“And I’m just hearing about this now?”

“Gus was in town. You were busy. It was a fucking headache.”

“Yeah, sounds like nothing.”

“It was worse because of the dehydration. At least that’s what they said. So I got all juiced up and filled with electrolytes and whatever and they gave me this amazing shit. Hospital grade heroin I swear to god.”

“Yeah. That shit rocks.”

“How do you know?”

“Fucked a nurse once.”

“That’s so illegal.”

“Shhhh. We’re talking about your fun little visit to the world of hospital gowns and IVs.”

“Whatever. Less than twenty four hours later I was home. And feeling better. But…

“Did you finish the painting?”

“I never touched it again. Never tried again. Was afraid.”

“Of the pain?”

“Yeah. And that I wouldn’t be able to do it. Can’t be creative if you’re standing in front of the canvas scared that the next stroke will cause… well, a stroke.”

“And that was a while ago.”

“And then we moved and I have that great new studio. And you’re around all the time.”

“Which is enough to give anyone a death wish”

Justin gently elbowed him. “I was inspired again but I couldn’t. Couldn’t even try. I’d go into the studio and…”

“Organize your brushes?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry you spent all that money on something I’ll never use.”

“You’ll use it again. And _we_ spent all that money.”

“Then I’m really sorry.”

“Justin.”

“It’s okay Brian. I got over the not being able to paint thing before. I’ll get over it again. I just want the pain to stop.”

“Are you in pain now?”

“A little. It’s just… in the last six months. It’s gotten way more frequent. Not more severe, thank god. But I can’t finish a day’s work without breaks and shit. I do what they say. No chocolate, no red wine, no pickles…and guess what? Head still hurts. So I researched and I found this guy.”

“Who thinks drilling a hole in your skull to release the pressure is the answer.”

“It’s worked.”

“With people who had no other diagnosis. An argument could be made that they just wanted someone to recognize their pain, and a hole in the head solved the problem. It’s not a cure. It’s not even sane.”

“Brian. Lots of people have had it done.”

“A third of them died.”

“That’s not such terrible odds.”

“Justin. Are you sure you haven’t had this done already?

“What the fuck are you talking about?”  
  


“You’re not making sense. One in three people end up either severely damaged, or die. And one in four don’t find any relief at all.”

“But the other ones. They feel great.”

“Except for the hole in their head.”

“It’s not like you can drop quarters in there. It’s sealed. It’s just…”

“Got a release valve.”

“You’re making it sound stupid.”

“I don’t have to try very hard.”

“The other answer is that they go in and fuck around with my brain. I mean, they don’t just open it… they actually you know…touch it.”

“Yeah, we’re gonna try to avoid that too.”

“We can’t _try_ to avoid anything. Whatever’s there… they got pictures. We have to deal with whatever is.”

“I know.”

“I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Yeah, this is completely your fault.”

“No. It’s mostly your fault. You give me a terrible headache.”

Brian laughed. “I know I’m aggravating but …”

“I wish I were stronger.”

“Hey. Stronger than what? You’re dealing. What more is there?”

“I should be able to do this alone.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But…”

“What?”

“You did.”

“When?”

“The cancer thing.”

“Oh, that. Yeah, I did that alone, 'til it got really bad. Then some really vicious asshole pushed me around in my own home and made me chicken soup.”

“Well… you had to eat something.”

“Yeah well so do you. So um… I’ll buy you some chicken soup.”

“You won’t cook for me?”

“I want you to get better.”

“Good point. Shit!”  
  


“What?”  
  


“You were supposed to see Gus.”

“Brain tumor trumps petulant nine year old.”

“Stop it.”

“Sorry, you’re right. He’s not petulant.”

“Don’t call it a brain tumor. Don’t give it this falsely dire, cute little name so that you can deal with it better.”

“Did you just call me falsely dire and cute?”

“No. I called you an asshole.”

“Oh… okay. So it’s not your pet brain tumor?”

Justin laughed. “I called it that for a while but then I really started to hate it and I gave it a different name.”

“What was that?”

“Chris Hobbes.”

“What?”

“That’s what this is. Isn’t it? Him. Still inside me, fucking with my head. All these years later. His knee may hurt when it rains but…”

“You named your pet brain tumor after him?”

“I should have killed him when I had the chance.”

“Because then this wouldn’t be happening.”

Justin turned around in Brian's arms. He moved back just a little so he could focus. “What if that’s true?”

“What?”

“If I’d killed him, I wouldn’t have all this anger and resentment and… what if this is all stress related.”

“Okay, rationally. Jail is significantly more stressful than New York. And if stress and aggravation caused this then it should be named after me.”

“Hmmm. You have a point.”

Justin leaned his forehead against Brian. “Brian Kinney. Meet my pet brain tumor. Brian Kinney junior.”

Brian laughed. “You’re carrying my spawn. How romantic.”

Justin kissed him. “Shut up and lets go back to sleep. Two days and then we get to know if it’s a boy or a girl.”

Brian held him and felt Justin’s breathing eventually become more even. He heard the small sound he made when he exhaled. Not a wheeze, or a snore. Just the sound of Justin, at peace. He was miles away from peace right now. And yet he was holding it in his arms.

Speaking of headaches. Eventually he fell asleep as well.


	6. Chapter 6

  
Author's notes:

replies here or at my LJ where i'm also Vamphile  


* * *

 

****

****

* * *

****Keeping It Together** **

****Chapter Six** **

****

* * *

Justin woke up first. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. No headache. He went days without them and was glad to be feeling better. He stumbled to the bathroom. Brian was still asleep when he came back out. He watched him for a moment. Brian was being really good about this. 

Justin shook his head. He never expected Brian to be anything but good about this. Brian was pretty dependable in a crisis so long as it wasn’t his own. He felt guilty. He knew he should have told Brian about the hospital visit when it happened. He knew he should have told Brian about the pain when it started getting worse but he just hadn’t been able to.

He’d tried, several times. The screaming, yelling, snarking, weekend they’d spent slamming doors and fucking 'til they couldn’t think about why they were angry, only to wake up and start another round… he could have told him then. He _should_ have told him then but if he had he’d never know if they had finally decided to live together because it’s what they wanted of if he was back to being Brian’s broken little boy. He didn’t want Brian that way. Didn’t want him just because he’d been hit in the head with a bat.

Justin knew it was irrational. They were so far past that now. The thought that he and Brian were together for any reason other than the fact that they genuinely worked better together than apart wasn’t even up for discussion. It didn’t mean there wasn’t a little part of him that had felt the need to keep this to himself.

There was of course another reason. He hadn’t told anyone. He hadn’t admitted to himself really that he’d stopped painting. Matt must have noticed. He would complain about the smell of paints and turpentine and then it wasn’t there anymore. There was just an easel taking up valuable space. Just an unfinished canvas on an unused easel with a tarp draped over it. 

Justin sometimes thought about finishing the piece, or working on something new. He told himself that time constraints and client meetings, and even a lack of inspiration, kept him from starting. It was fear. He’d admitted as much to Brian last night. The thing Brian probably didn’t understand was that it was really the first time he’d admitted it to himself.

No. He knew he should have told Brian, but he also knew that the reasons he didn’t weren’t about trust, or love, or communication. If he’d told Brian he would have had to do something. Brian could be patient about some things. There were others that he had no patience for and this was one of them. 

Brian would have forced him to face it. To take action. To admit that it was serious. And for a while, until last month… he’d really figured it wasn’t. But last month had proven him wrong. He took another deep breath. He knew he had to tell Brian what had finally made him really start looking for a viable treatment option. If not Brian was gonna hear about it in the doctor’s office and that was no guarantee that he wouldn’t queen out anyway. Do that angry, quiet, disapproving, protective thing that he did so well. Justin wanted to wait though. There was an open-air art fair he wanted to see and maybe the sympathy ploy would get Brian to accompany him. 

Then again, they knew it wasn’t a brain tumor, so maybe Brian would just go fuck someone hot and do some shopping. Justin smiled. He hoped Brian might do that. If Brian did that he could convince himself that this was really nothing. This probably wasn’t really nothing. He knew that. Brian knew that. And now he just had to be strong and pretend it was nothing until he knew what it was. He couldn’t spend the entire weekend with the covers over his head feeling sorry for himself.

He curled back into bed and Brian’s hand flopped over his chest as he lay on his back. It would all be okay. It had to. They’d gotten this far against, well, every odd any bookmaker might ever lay, so it had to be okay.

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

Brian woke up to the feel of Justin’s body tense under his arm. He looked over and Justin was doing a lousy job of pretending to be asleep. The kid never slept on his back. He never clenched his jaw in his sleep. He also never breathed like this when he was asleep, only when he was worried about something.

He moved his hand lower, sliding it slowly down Justin's ribs. He tangled his fingers in the thick strawberry blonde thatch above Justin's cock and then curled his fingers around the semi hard shaft. He moved slowly, pretending he believed Justin was still asleep.

Justin’s eyes opened a moment later. “What are you doing?”

“Christ you really must have brain damage if you don’t remember what a hand job is.”

“I was sleeping.”

“Liar.”

The word hung in the air, taking on more meaning. “I wasn’t lying to you Brian.”

“No. Just not telling me the truth.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

Brian’s hand was still stroking him slowly and Justin hips bucked up into his caress. “I didn’t know.”

“Know what?”

“That it was gonna get this bad. Thought it was minor.”

“Well maybe it is.”

“It probably is.”

“Then why the sudden rush to see a doctor.”

Brian felt Justin's body tense and not in a pre orgasmic way. He stopped.

“Justin?”  
  


“Something happened, about a month ago.”

“What?” Brian was sitting up now, all thoughts of what he was doing previously forgotten for the moment. 

Justin remained on his back his eyes closed. “It’s gonna sound worse than it is.”

“Let’s skip the part where I tell you I won’t be mad and you tell me it’s no big deal.”

“It isn’t.”

“Skipping this.”

“I kind of… um… had this thing.”

“Well that explains everything.”

“It was a momentary lapse.”

“Of what?”

“Not sure.”

“Justin.”

“Sort of a lapse of motor control. My hand froze. It was just for a little while. I couldn’t move my arm. Couldn’t feel it.”

“How long?”

Justin gave a half shrug. “Few minutes.”

“Few minutes is not momentary.”

“It freaked me out.”

“That was when I was in Washington?”

“No.”

“Where was I?”

“In the kitchen.”

“You start going paralyzed while I’m in the kitchen and decide it’s not something I need to know about?”

“What was I supposed to do? Call you? ‘Brian, come unbend my arm please?’”

“Like you’d say please.”

“That’s when I did the research. Well, once my arm was moving again.”

“And why you’ve been so protective of it.”

“I guess.”

“And what did you think would happen if you told me?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

“Everything. What would you have done?”

“Found a doctor who doesn’t want to drill holes in your head.”

“See, that’s the thing. You would have found the doctor. You would have taken control and then you would have…”

“Shut up.”

“What?”  
  


“Shut the fuck up. This is not about your issue with control.”

“Pfft. I’m not the one with the control issue.”

“Whatever. You didn’t tell me because you didn’t want to deal with it.”

“I didn’t want it.”

“No one wants this. Do you think this is how I planned to spend a weekend with you in San Francisco?”

“I mean I didn’t want it to be real. If I was dealing, if I’m really considering surgery, I guess it’s real.”

“I guess so.”

“And you’ll be a rock, and I’ll fall apart like a little faggot and everyone will still blame you for it.”

“What color is the sky in your world?”

“Huh?”  
  


“Reality. You’re nowhere near it. Make a left at the purple dragon and see if you can find your way back.”

“Shut up.”

“No.”

“Brian.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna help you. Yeah, if your mom finds out, or Debbie, and they will, I’m gonna get blamed but, you… you’re not gonna fall apart. You don’t really do that.”

“Anymore.”

“You never really did.”

“You thought I did.”

“No. Everyone else thought you did. I watched you handle shit on your own. I just happened to be there so everyone assumed I was running the show.”

“They still think that.”

“Let them. We both know who’s running this show.”

“Yeah, my pet brain tumor. If it’s a girl we should name her Brianna after you.”

“If it’s a brain tumor we’re keeping it I a jar on the mantle like Chang and Ang's liver.”

“You keep the Siamese twins liver in a jar on the mantle?”

Brian laughed. “Shut up, ever been to the Mutter?”

“Where?”

“[http://www.collphyphil.org/mutter.asp](<a?PHPSESSID=2db5a4a8468357e3d6948a3c61f54b15)>The Philadelphia museum of medical oddities.”

“Ewww, no.”

“We’ll go.”

“They have the Siamese liver?”

“Among other things.”

“Why are we talking about this?”

“Because you’re not a medical oddity. You need to know that.”

“So I’m not carrying your pet tumor?”  
  


“If you are you’re getting an abortion.”

“Hey! Maybe I want to keep it.”

“Maybe you need to talk to your partner about it.”

“When did that happen?”

“What?”

“The partner thing.”

“Came with the joint checking account.”  
  


“Really?”

“No. It came before that but what the hell, we’ve never picked an anniversary.”

“Gus’s birthday.”

“No fucking way.”

“Why?”

“Nine years? Ten in September? Nope.”

“November eighteenth?”  
  


“Why?”  
  


“That was the day we fucked in your office.”

“We fucked in my office a lot.”

“The day I promised never to play violin music in your presence again.”

“Oh, that time we fucked in my office.”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You left me after that.”

“So? You threatened to call the cops on me.”

“So we couldn’t possibly have been together then.”

“January third?”

“The day we signed on the NY loft?”

“Yeah, the day we moved in.”

“That means we’ve only been together for a couple of months.”

“You said nine years was too long.”

“Nine weeks is too short.”

“You’re really really annoying.”

“That’s how you got the brain tumor remember?”

“I’m going with September ninth. Gus’s birthday is when I fell in love with you.”

“I’m going with January third.”

“Actually that’s perfect. They’re evenly spaced. We get two romantically sappy days to celebrate.”

“I only celebrate accomplishment.”

“You don’t think staying with you is an accomplishment?”

Brian bit his lip not to laugh. “Fine. Two anniversaries.”

“Brian.”

“Mmm?”

“After you put out your cigarette, and then kiss me with the nasty morning breath and fuck me into the mattress until my brain melts and we kill the demon spawn…”

“Yes?”

“After that there’s an open air art fair I want to go to.”

“So go.”

“With you.”

“Fuck no.”

“San Francisco. Beautiful gay men everywhere.”  
  


“That’s a myth.”

“You sure?”

“Well, I’m not gonna be able to prove a lack of faggots at an open air art fair.”

“But if you did, you’d be so right no one could ever doubt you again.”

“People doubt me?”

“Maybe. This could stop all that.”

Brian put out his cigarette and leaned over to kiss Justin who wrinkled his nose. “Seriously bad morning breath.”

“It’s gonna taste like your ass in a second.”

“Mmm”

“Art fair?”

“Outside.”

“So I can smoke?”

“I guess.”

“Roll over.”

“Okay.”

“Only because you’re carrying my demon spawn in your skull.”

“Ever the romantic.”

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

Brian was bored but he was working really hard on pretending not to be. More than bored he was worried. Not just about Justin’s head. He was worried about Justin’s reaction to their surroundings.

First of all he was a little twitchy. Not hand tremor twitchy either. He was doing that thing Brian hadn’t seen in a long time. Shying away from people. Seemingly shaken if they got too close. Justin had learned to navigate New York pretty well. It didn’t hurt that other than right after the bashing, he’d pretty much acted as if he owned wherever he was. Sometimes Brian thought Justin had learned it from him… but then he thought back to Justin before he’d picked up most of his own bad habits and realized the kid just had an innate ability to fake confidence 'til he felt it.

He wasn’t feeling it, and he wasn’t faking it. 

The other reason Brian hadn’t wandered off to find something or someone more interesting to do was Justin’s expression when he came across something he liked. It wasn’t desire or envy…it was something wistful. Justin was running a finger along some piece of blown glass and Brian watched him and wanted to scream. He wanted to hold Justin and whisper in his ear and promise him that he’d create again. Promise him that it would all be okay and there was no reason to be mourning his lost ability. The problem with that was that Brian didn’t lie, not even to make that heartbreaking expression disappear. There really was no way to guarantee that he would be okay. There really was no way to guarantee that he hadn’t lost something vital. He straightened his shoulders and moved towards Justin slowly, not sure what his next move might be.

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

Justin knew Brian was watching him and he was trying to put on a brave front. He was aware that he was doing a pretty shitty job of it. Brian was bored. That wasn’t a surprise. He hadn’t wandered too far though, and truthfully, that wasn’t a surprise either. Brian’s protective vibe was shimmering off of him in waves. Justin wanted to push him away. To promise him he’d be fine and this was all unnecessary. He didn’t. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but that stalker like protective thing Brian was doing was about the only thing keeping him from shattering right now. 

Some of the artists were really talented and Justin wondered if he’d ever be able to create anything worthwhile again. He couldn’t bear to think that he might not but the reality was that he probably wouldn’t.

They’d probably find nothing in his brain and he’d just get worse until he couldn’t work at all. Until he had to find some other way to make a living. He was totally fucked. He knew that. He felt lost. He felt like he’d lost something. In all the time he’d been not painting, he’d somehow convinced himself that when he got around to fixing the problem, it would be fixable. It might not be. He may end up paralyzed. He could end up sitting in a wheelchair unable to feed himself.

Someone brushed up against him and he flinched. He was ready to go. All these fucking people, having a lovely Saturday. He didn’t deserve to be here, not with happy people and creative artists bursting with energy. He wanted to be here, to feel like a part of this, even if it was in a tiny way. Just to be with those who create and be a part of that community but he didn’t belong there anymore. He was a guy who used a computer program to put moveable walls in the most ergonomic and visually pleasing manner for companies that spent too much time thinking about their walls and not enough time thinking about the people who worked within them.

He backed away from the glass sculpture and bumped into someone. He pulled away but Brian wrapped a hand around his wrist. “Just me.”

“Hi.”

“You want to go over there?”

Justin shook his head. “We can get out of here.”

“I thought you wanted to…”

“I don’t. I’m hungry. Let’s get lunch.”

Brian nodded and wrapped an arm around his waist. There were moments when Justin realized how fucking lucky he was to have Brian. Any other supportive partner would whisper some soothing words about everything being okay. Brian didn’t lie. He did lean in and whisper into Justin’s ear, but he wasn’t lying. And Justin realized he was really too old to blush but he did it anyway. He couldn’t help it.”

Hours later they were back in the hotel watching nothing in particular on the television.

“I wish we had some weed.”

“We do.”

“Brian. Jesus Christ. They search luggage these days. They have dogs and X ray machines and…”

“Stop it. I bought it today.”

Justin narrowed his eyes. “Where?”

“You think the white Rasta selling hemp bracelets pays the rent five bucks at a time?”

Justin laughed. “Ever resourceful.”

“Yeah well, if you’d gone to a real college, or you know, finished, you’d know these things.”

“They taught this in college?” He asked as Brian pulled out a bowl he’d apparently also purchased. “That’s nice.”

“Yeah, guy made it out of quartz or something. Didn’t have any papers. And no, twat, I don’t think they taught this in college…although I’m sure I learned it there.”

“Oh Christ. Tell me you spent a summer following the dead around in a VW bus so I can just mock you forever.”

“I spent my summers doing internships and taking courses so that I could finish faster.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Actually between sophomore and junior year I spent most of the summer at Lindsay’s parents.”

“Sounds less fun.”

“It was cool. We were cool by then, mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“Until she got really drunk, or stoned, or both. Get Lindsay drunk and stoned and she’s a fucking horny bitch.”

“Brian, that’s the mother of your child.”

“Your point?”

“Um… don’t call Gus’s mom a horny bitch?”

“That’s what Mel’s calling her.”

“And you’ve always wanted to be just like Mel.”

Brian exhaled and passed the bowl and lighter to Justin. 

When Justin exhaled and coughed Brian took the bowl back.

“So you fucked Lindsay that summer?”

Brian shrugged as he inhaled. His voice was raspy as he held his breath and replied, “couple of times. Bored.”

“Must have been really boring.”

“The lawn guy was hot. Did him. And the guy who came to fix the heater on the pool… he was good. But you can’t break the pool heater too often or people get suspicious.”

Justin was leaning against Brian now. “Good to know, you know, in case I ever have a pool.”

“We’d have to live outside the city for that.”

“I guess.”

“Or were you talking about once you’re living on your own again?”

“What the fuck is that?”

Brian shrugged against Justin’s back. “No clue.”

“Not living without you again.”

“Good to know.”

“Have I said I’m s….”

“Shut up. Apologize again and I’m going to have to make sure they lobotomize you.”

“Did you know when kids have epilepsy they take out half their brain. I mean one whole side and the space just fills up with fluid and they learn to do everything with half a brain.”

“Is that what happened to you?”

“I’m just saying, we don’t need as much brain as we think we do.”

“Exactly. So we’ll take out a part of yours and hell, maybe you’ll end up smarter.”

“I doubt it, I’m pretty fucking brilliant.”

“Yeah, a real brain trust.”

“I don’t trust my brain.”

Brian was laughing now. “This is good shit.”

“I wonder if I’m not supposed to be smoking it.”

“Why, what’s it gonna do, give you a tumor?”

Justin laughed this time. “It’s not a tumor.”

“You do the worst Arnold impression I’ve ever heard.”

“I’m not an impressionist. Fuck.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”  
  


“Okay.”

“I’m not an anything.”

“Bullshit.”

“I used to be part of this whole world. I was an artist. I’d meet people and I could say, ‘I’m an artist.’ But now I can’t say that, I can’t say anything. All I can say is ‘I’m a guy with headaches. I’m a guy who got bashed.’ Fuck.”

Brian's arm was around Justin’s waist and he pulled him closer. “You were always more than an artist.”

“I really wasn’t. I was a twink in love with an emotionally stunted man, and an artist. Everything else was pretty much temporary.”

“This is temporary Justin. This is a glitch.”

“You don’t know that.”

“We could pretend I do.”

“You hate when I pretend things are okay when they aren’t.”

“Only sometimes.”

“What times are those?”

“When I’m not willing to pretend to.”

“So we just lie to ourselves and each other.”

“Whatever gets you through the night.”

“You.”

Brian said nothing. He slouched a little lower in the bed, letting the soft buzz of decent weed relax him. He pulled Justin down on top of him. Fine. If he was what got the kid through the night…well, that’s what he wanted so he’d be here. And he’d be strong. And he wouldn’t mention the fact that this might kill him. Because how do you explain to the person who needs your strength that there’s no way that you’re strong enough. He’s just go back to what worked and fake it. 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

They spent the rest of the weekend in deep denial. Fucking and staying drunk or stoned a lot of the time. They didn’t talk about the pet Brian tumor, the demon spawn or the possibility of surgery. 

They were both still faking it pretty well while they waited to be called back to the doctor’s office.

An hour after their scheduled appointment time they were finally called back to see the doctor. Images of Justin's skull were on the light board over his desk.

“Is that me?” Justin asked.

The doctor nodded and stood in front of the films. 

“Well?” Brian asked. Too wound up to even try to be polite.

Justin took his hand and Brian didn’t shift his gaze from the doctor.

“The images were helpful.”

“So that’s good?” Justin asked.

“It depends on your point of view.”

“Our point of view is inside that skull looking out.” Brian spit out. 

“Brian stop. Doctor, just tell me what we have to do, I mean, if there’s anything we can do.”

“Well that’s where the option is yours Mr. Taylor. There are several options. Each has drawbacks and risks, each also has it’s own merit.”

“So what are the options?” Justin's squeezed his hand again but Brian was not particularly interested in being polite.

The doctor pointed to a smudge on the screen. “There’s a buildup of what seems to be scar tissue here. From the records they sent it’s the same area of your initial trauma. This is what we expected.”

Justin nodded. “So you take off the scar tissue.”

“The problem is that the build up is considerable. To remove it completely we would have to be more invasive than I’d be completely comfortable with. And even then, assuming we could remove it, there’s no guarantee that ten years from now we wouldn’t be sitting here again.”

Justin seemed to deflate. “So it is what it is and I just… deal.”

“No. There are other options. There is a non-surgical retraining but without removing the scar tissue the headaches will probably continue unabated.”

“And how long 'til his hand is completely paralyzed?”

The doctor looked at Brian questioningly and Justin sighed and retold the story. The doctor nodded.

“Then I’m going to have to say that a non surgical option really shouldn’t be considered. The scar tissue is deeper than I originally thought. It leaves us with the treatment I think will yield the best results.”

Brian and Justin both waited.

“What we’ll do is to cut off the connections to the damaged area and re-route the communications to another part of the brain.”

“What?”

“It won’t be easy. It would basically result in creating stroke like symptoms for a short time while you create new synapse connections. In short, you’ll have to relearn how to use your hand.”

“Fuck that.”

“Justin.”

“No. No fucking way. I’ll deal with the headaches.”

“Mr. Taylor. It’s not just the headaches. There’s a very real possibility that you’ll lose full use of your hand. The problem lies in what other parts of your body this area is currently controlling. Because you had to retrain it originally there may be other connections. We won’t know the extent of the damage until it’s done. And if you wait too long, you may not be able to recover your lost abilities.”

“So you cut my brain open and move everything to the left?”

The doctor almost smiled. “Something like that. It’s a long procedure, for which you’ll need to be awake.”

“You’re gonna open my skull while I’m awake?”

“We need to map the area and take as little as possible.”

“Well fuck that. Put me to sleep and run Mapquest.”

“Justin.”

“Brian, shut up. Last time I checked. You got to keep your whole skull in one piece.”

The doctor handed Justin a sheaf of papers. “This is further information on the procedure. We can schedule it for any time next week.”

“Next week? I’m going to England next month.”

Brian shook his head. 

“Brian.”

“Your call. You know… I’d hate to have to sell the Pittsburgh loft because it’s not wheelchair accessible but if that’s what you want…”

“You suck.” Justin took the papers and stood up. “I’ll let you know.”

The doctor nodded and Brian followed him out of the office. They were two blocks away, Justin was smoking and walking so quickly that even Brian’s longer strides only barely kept up with him. Eventually he stopped. “Fuck.”

“We’ll get a second opinion.”

“No shit.”

“It’ll be done by the best guy there is.”

“Whatever.”

“Justin.”

“I don’t want to do this.”

“Funny, it’s exactly what I had planned for our vacation.”

“You show up during visiting hours this time asshole. None of that sneaking around in the middle of the night and not telling anyone.”

Brian looked a little surprised but he nodded. “Visiting hours.”

“And you keep every single person I’ve ever met away from me.”

“If that’s what you want.”

“And if I end up a vegetable you fucking pull the plug.”

“Already agreed to that.”

“And if I can’t ever get my hand back you just smother me with my pillow okay?”

Brian stepped back a bit. “No.”

“I’m not fucking kidding.”

“You think I am?”

“I’m not doing this to end up some old man with a cane at twenty seven.”

“I’m the old guy in this relationship.”

“Pfft. takes a brain tumor for you to call it a relationship.”

“Well, at least you can have it aborted.”

“This sucks.”

Brian pulled him close but Justin shrugged away. “So not ready to do the crying thing yet.”

“So don’t.”

“Not a soul knows about this. Maybe we do it out of the country.”

“Maybe we find out who the best is.”

“You gonna be a label queen about my brain tumor?”

“If that fucker doesn’t say Prada I’ll know you cheated on me.”

“You’re completely retarded.”

“And you love me…so what does that mean.”

“That I must have brain damage?”

“This sucks.”

“No shit.”

“So research?”

Justin sighed and lit another cigarette. “Yeah. Book the flight. We need to go home.”

“You have clients.”

“Had clients. Now I have brain damage.”

“Justin.”

“Cut it the fuck out. I have brain damage. I’m not running off to kill Chris Hobbes although, by right… I should. I’m about to voluntarily check myself in to have a stroke induced. I’m allowed to be a little pissy.”

“Yeah. Maybe you are.”

“But not at you.”

“It’s okay. You can be pissy at me.”

“Let’s just go home. I don’t want to think about this anymore.”

“Well, you have brain damage, so it should be easy for you to forget.”

“Oh my fucking god I hate you.”

“You just think that because you have brain damage.”


	7. Chapter 7

  
Author's notes: replies here or at my LJ where i'm also Vamphile  


* * *

  
  


* * *

  
**Keeping It Together  
Chapter Seven**   


* * *

  
  
They’d been home for two days and Brian hadn’t stopped making phone calls or doing research since their return. Justin hadn’t gotten out of bed.  
  
Brian brought another mass of printed material into the bedroom and sat down next to him. “You awake?”  
  
“Sorta.”  
  
“New info.”  
  
“New or just from a different site?”  
  
“How would you know? You haven’t read any of it.”  
  
Justin didn’t respond.  
  
“How long were you planning on pretending we didn’t have to make a decision?”  
  
“We?”  
  
“Sorry. _you_.”  
  
“We’ll just go with whatever you decide.”  
  
“Since when?”  
  
“Since I have brain damage. Can’t trust me with something this important.”  
  
Brian stood up and pulled the duvet off the bed. “That’s it. Let’s go.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
Brian grabbed Justin’s ankles and slid him down the bed. “Time’s up.”  
  
“What time?”  
  
“No more of this bullshit. Get up.”  
  
“Fuck off.”  
  
Brian took Justin’s wrists and pulled him into a sitting position. He moved his hands to Justin’s shoulders to keep him from lying back down. “Get. Up.”  
  
“What’s the difference?”  
  
“You haven’t showered in two days.”  
  
“What’s the difference?”  
  
“Not fucking you when you’re grimy.”  
  
“Not what you said last night.”  
  
“Last night is how you got grimy.”  
  
Justin tried to shrug Brian's hands off of him. “Couple of days, then we’ll do this.”  
  
“Now.”  
  
“Of course. We’re doing this on your timetable.”  
  
“I’m not the one running out the clock.”  
  
“Brian…”  
  
“Get. Up.”  
  
“I am.”  
  
“Take a shower.”  
  
Justin moved slowly towards the bathroom and Brian sat on the bed looking over the information he’d found. Ten minutes later he realized that there was no sound of water coming from the shower. He pushed open the door. Justin was standing in front of the sink staring into the mirror.  
  
“I look so normal.”  
  
“No you don’t.”  
  
“I look like me.”  
  
“You were expecting someone else?”  
  
“How can I look like me and not be me?”  
  
“You’re still you. I can tell by the pout and the perfect ass.”  
  
Justin shook his head. He started running the water. Brian considered joining him but right now he wasn’t sure what Justin wanted. He’d been trying to figure it out but for the most part, it seemed Justin simply wanted to stay in bed.  
  
The information he’d found was all consistent with what the doctor told them. The information he’d gotten from Justin’s doctor in Pittsburgh was the same. The doctor they had an appointment with on Thursday would probably be similar. Get in, reroute, retrain.  
  
He took a deep breath. The furniture was coming tomorrow… maybe that would cheer Justin up but then again, this wasn’t a kid with tonsillitis they were dealing with, he didn’t need a new toy and all the ice cream he could eat. He needed to know he wasn’t gonna lose anything. Brian wanted to know that too.  
  
When Justin did come out of the shower his skin was pink from the heat of the water. His hair was still wet. He had a towel draped around him and Brian wanted him. He stood up and moved towards Justin who seemed to take a step back. Brian stopped. He wasn’t going to push it but then Justin apparently changed his mind. He dropped the towel and took a step forward. Brian met him half way and their bodies pressed together. Brian in jeans and a t-shirt. Justin naked and hard.  
  
“I’m sor…”  
  
“Apologies make my dick soft.”  
  
Justin moved his hand down Brian's shirt and palmed the fly of his jeans. “Apparently that’s just another one of your lines of bullshit.”  
  
Brian bent his knees a little until their bodies were aligned and he was looking Justin in the eye. “Nothing to be sorry for.”  
  
“Myself.”  
  
“Yeah, you’ve been doing a hell of a job at that.”  
  
“Kiss me.”  
  
Brian hesitated just a moment. Breathing in Justin’s breath. Feeling the warmth of his skin without even touching him. Justin’s tongue flicked out to lick his lips and Brian kissed him then. He savored the taste as his tongue explored Justin’s mouth. Fresh toothpaste in that weird flavor the kid liked so much. His hands were on Justin. Skimming along his sides, tracing the curve of the small of his back. Justin’s arms were around his neck pulling him closer and then they were just holding each other.  
  
He could feel the heat of Justin’s skin through his shirt. He could feel the soft sighing breaths Justin was taking. He wrapped his arms around his waist and just held him. They were perfect like this. They fit. Brian didn’t want to move. Didn’t feel any urgent desire to do anything other than feel the solid presence of Justin in his arms.  
  
Justin apparently felt some other need because he was pushing Brian backwards towards the bed. Kissing his jaw, his neck, his collarbone. Pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it to the side. “I love you.”  
  
Brian didn’t say anything in return. There were no words that were enough. Silence was better. Action was always better than words. He pulled Justin’s head down towards his mouth and kissed him again.  
  
Justin’s hands were on his jeans now, stroking him through the worn denim. “I just love you Brian.”  
  
He felt the fly open slowly. He lifted his hips to allow easy removal and then they were both naked. Brian's arms wrapped around Justin’s waist and held his body flush against his own. “You’re beautiful.”  
  
Justin didn’t respond. Brian rolled them over and let his face stay inches above the blonde’s. They held eye contact while their bodies rocked together. Both cocks hard and leaking, both sets of eyes dilated with desire. Both hearts beating a little faster and breaking a little bit. Brian moved his mouth to the sensitive spot on Justin’s neck. He kissed it softly and then tongued it lightly. He moved his mouth to his Adams apple and allowed his teeth to scrape just a little. He licked the spot. Justin threw his head back to give Brian better access.  
  
Brian’s mouth never stopped. He covered Justin’s face and neck with kisses. Wet and soft and gentle and tender. He moved to the side then, just slightly and Justin’s body followed Brian’s lead until their bodies once again fit together. Justin’s head just under Brian's chin. His back pressed against Brian’s chest. Brian pushed into him. Slowly. His hands caressing Justin. His thighs, his belly, his chest. He let his thumbs worry his nipples and heard the soft sighs. He kissed the top of Justin’s head and felt the tight heat around him.  
  
He slid an arm under Justin’s waist and pulled him closer, resting his other hand on a pale narrow hipbone. He moved slowly. Short gentle strokes, relishing the feel of them together. Justin’s hand was running through his hair and he turned his head so they could share a kiss.  
  
They moved together. Softly. Gently. Justin whispering declarations of love. Brian breathing out words of appreciation for Justin’s beauty and soft skin and blue eyes and full lips. They came eventually. Both of their hands working Justin’s cock while Brian pushed a little faster into him but it wasn’t about the orgasm. It was about the connection. And when Justin dozed off with Brian still inside him Brian breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of Justin’s hair. The musky scent of him. He felt encompassed by it and knew maybe once it would have made him feel trapped. Tonight it just made him feel grateful.  
  
  
They both woke up less than an hour later. It was still early. Just past eight in the evening. Brian was sitting up and reading something he’d downloaded. Justin was smoking a cigarette.  
  
“You should read this.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because when you’re feeling shitty I don’t want to get blamed for making a unilateral decision.”  
  
Justin pushed the laptop a little so he could see the screen. He scanned it quickly. “Nothing we don’t already know.”  
  
“Except they say that the surgery doesn’t have to be so invasive.”  
  
Justin looked more closely at the screen. “Hmmm.”  
  
“See, they can disconnect and reconnect without damaging the motor function as much.”  
  
“You just like this one because they say it’s quicker.”  
  
“Exactly. What’s the point in taking your time on something like this?”  
  
“Well, less time in the waiting room for you.”  
  
“Those are my priorities. Glad you know me so well.”  
  
“Just make the appointment. I’ll show up.”  
  
“Justin.”  
  
“What? I said I’d go. What more am I supposed to do? Am I supposed to _want_ this?”  
  
“No. I just thought you might like to consider some options before going with the first guy who wants to poke around in there.”  
  
“Hell, you’ve been fucking with my head for years. I apparently get lucky with firsts.”  
  
“Not sure you got lucky being stuck with me.”  
  
“Now who’s acting like they’ve got brain damage?”  
  
Brian didn’t say anything. Justin blew a smoke ring and watched it float away. “Wonder if I’ll still be able to do that.”  
  
“You’d better not lose your ability to use your tongue. I’d miss that.”  
  
“Hey, what if I wake up with a gag reflex. Or straight.”  
  
“You’ll be declared a miracle and it will prove your fucking father right. You _can_ cure homosexuality. All it takes is brain damage.”  
  
“It would suck if at the end of this Craig gets proven right. I’m sure he’d be looking down and laughing.”  
  
“You think that fucker’s in heaven?”  
  
“I don’t even fucking believe in heaven.”  
  
“You don’t?”  
  
“Um. Brian. Do I strike you as a particularly religious guy?”  
  
“Never thought about it.”  
  
“Weird.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because you over think most things.”  
  
“That’s you.”  
  
“I used to. Not anymore. Brian damage.”  
  
“Stop it.”  
  
“Joking about it? That’s what we do.”  
  
“Since when?”  
  
“Since always. Snide little jokes. Cute little nicknames for big problems. Dumpster boy. Going to Ibiza. Stockwell incident. The fiddler. The bashing. Half-breed. We don’t call them what they are.”  
  
“Guess not.”  
  
“So this is my brain damage. We’ll joke about it. We’ll fix it and then we’ll move on.”  
  
“Exactly. But, you’ll tell me when you believe that last part right?”  
  
“We should go out.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because we haven’t been out in a while.”  
  
“Let’s go.”  
  
They were dancing and Justin was drunk and Brian was pretending not to be concerned. Justin pulled him closer. “I love you.”  
  
“Mom hmmm.”  
  
“I really do. You know that right?”  
  
“You’re drunk.”  
  
“Still love you.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Justin pulled him into the backroom and blew Brian while he jerked himself off. He stood up and kissed him. “I love the way you taste.”  
  
Brian kissed him again.  
  
“We should go to the loft on Thursday.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Haven’t been in two months. See everyone. Say hi.”  
  
Brian nodded but said nothing. When they got home that night he watched Justin pass out and then moved into living room and sat in the dark. He was shaking. Justin was saying goodbye. He poured himself a drink and swallowed it in a single gulp. He didn’t bother to pour another one he just drank straight from the bottle.  
  
Justin was giving up. He was saying goodbye. That’s why he wanted to go back to Pittsburgh. That’s why he’d wanted to go out tonight. He was having a last hurrah, creating a few memories, tying up loose ends. FUCK. THAT. Those ends could stay loose forever… no one was fucking dying.  
  
~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  
Justin woke up to the buzzer. His phone was ringing. He found it in the pocket of the pants he’d left in a heap on the floor. He was still groggy. “Yeah? Um, okay. Gimme a minute.”  
  
“Brian.”  
  
Brian wasn’t there. The shower wasn’t running. He must have left for work. Good. He needed to go back to work. Having him hover for the last two days was really annoying.  
  
He pulled on the pants he’d retrieved and grabbed the first shirt he found, it was Brian’s. A black sleeveless button-down that he knew looked ridiculous on him. It hung off his body and almost reached his knees. He didn’t care.  
  
He hit the buzzer and let the delivery guys in.  
  
Brian wasn’t in the kitchen. He went to unlock the door when he heard that soft wheezing sound. Brian was asleep on the pillows on the floor, an empty bottle of beam beside him.  
  
Justin sighed and threw out the bottle. He shook Brian gently. “Go to bed. The furniture guys are here.”  
  
“Hmmph?”  
  
“Brian. You’re about to lose your sleeping space to actual furniture.”  
  
“Mmfffphff?”  
  
“Brian. Get the fuck up.”  
  
Brian stood up shakily and ran a hand through his hair. “What?”  
  
“Furniture is on it’s way up. Go to bed. Or go to work.”  
  
“Off today.”  
  
“Then bed.” Justin pointed towards their room.  
  
“You’re wearing my shirt.”  
  
“You’re not wearing a shirt at all.”  
  
“So?”  
  
“So you’re also not wearing pants and the furniture guys are on their way up.”  
  
“So?”  
  
“Whatever.”  
  
Brian laughed. “I’m just gonna have to take the clothes off again to break the new furniture in.”  
  
“Yeah, once you’re sober. Which you’re still not.”  
  
“Says the guy who passed out last night.”  
  
Justin silently pointed to the bedroom again. “Can we do this _after_ the guys put the furniture in the right places?”  
  
“Do what?”  
  
Justin shook his head. “I have no idea.”  
  
Brian kissed his forehead. “Brain damage.” He chuckled as he walked back towards the bedroom. Justin resisted the urge to throw one of his discarded sneakers at him.  
  
A couple of hours later Justin was sitting on the new sofa and debating the need for occasional chairs when Brian came out, freshly showered and significantly more sober. He bent down and Justin leaned his head back. Brian kissed him upside down. “Hi.”  
  
“Hi.”  
  
“You still hate it?”  
  
“Never hated it.”  
  
“You said you did.”  
  
“Never said that. You must have brain damage.”  
  
Justin glared at him and then took his hand, pulling him in for another kiss. “Come here.”  
  
Brian walked around the sofa. “It actually all looks pretty good.”  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
“You know, for stuff picked out by a guy with…”  
  
“Say it and I’ll kill you.”  
  
“Lose your sense of humor?”  
  
“I’m tired of thinking about it.”  
  
“We don’t have to go to the Pitts.”  
  
“I want to.”  
  
“You’re saying goodbye.”  
  
“Maybe a little.”  
  
“You’re not going anywhere.”  
  
“You don’t know that.”  
  
“Yes. I do.”  
  
“Brian.”  
  
“Justin. You’re not going anywhere.”  
  
“Just let me do this okay?”  
  
“If you want. Do you even want me there?”  
  
“If you don’t want to come you don’t have to.”  
  
“We’ve got an appointment tomorrow.”  
  
“Where?”  
  
“Here.”  
  
“Convenient.”  
  
“He’s good.”  
  
“Says?”  
  
“Everyone. Even Midaracci.”  
  
“Midaracci still thinks I should go back and have him do it.”  
  
“Yeah. But what surgeon is gonna admit he’s not the best?”  
  
“He’s also done a lot of these.”  
  
“So has this guy.”  
  
“Successfully?”  
  
“No, I’m taking you to a quack.”  
  
“I don’t want to talk about this.”  
  
“We have to.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because the sooner we do this the sooner you’re back to painting.”  
  
“You don’t know that.”  
  
“I believe it.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“You don’t.”  
  
“I don’t know.”  
  
“You need to believe it.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“’cause I say so?”  
  
“Oh yeah, that works.” Justin rolled his eyes.  
  
“I’m not gonna tell you what to do.”  
  
Justin rolled his eyes again.  
  
“Fuck you. Every damn thing I’ve read on recovery says it’s got a lot to do with attitude. If you go in thinking you’re gonna die… “  
  
“I can will myself dead?”  
  
“Stop.”  
  
“But that’s what you’re saying.”  
  
“I’ll will you back alive.”  
  
Justin smiled a little. “You can’t do that.”  
  
“Try me. You think I’m pulling your plug just because you’re in a bad mood?”  
  
“It’s more than that.”  
  
Brian pulled Justin closer his arm wrapped around his waist his chin resting on his shoulder. “I know.”  
  
“Do you? Do you know what it’s like to lose something that’s so much a part of you that without it you have no definition of self?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Not the same thing.”  
  
“You sure?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“So you have to trust something. Me. The doctor. Yourself. Santa Claus. I don’t care. Just fucking trust something.”  
  
“I trust you.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“I don’t trust me.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“Because I fucked up.”  
  
“When?”  
  
“Alphabetically, chronologically or in order of importance?”  
  
“Stop it.” Brian carded his fingers through Justin’s hair.  
  
“I should have gone to the doctor when it first happened.”  
  
“Mmm hmm.”  
  
“I should have gone to the doctor for regular check ups.”  
  
“Mmm hmmm.”  
  
“I should have told you sooner.”  
  
“Mmm hmmm.”  
  
“I’ve got too many shoulds”  
  
“Fewer than I.”  
  
“You sure?”  
  
“Willing to bet on it but it doesn’t matter. No regrets. We’re here now. We go from here.”  
  
“So Thursday we go to this new guy.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“And then we decide.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“And then I go have a stroke.”  
  
Brian inhaled deeply. “I guess.”  
  
“Have I mentioned this sucks?”  
  
“I think so.”  
  
“It bears repeating.”  
  
“It does.”  
  
“It explains a lot though.”  
  
“It does?”  
  
“Brain damage. Has to be why I still care what you think when you’re such an asshole.”  
  
“I am?”  
  
“You’re trying to be strong supportive guy and then get drunk and pass out on the floor. Do you think I don’t know you’re scared, Brian?”  
  
“I’m not scared.”  
  
“Liar.”  
  
“I’m concerned.”  
  
“Fucking terrified.”  
  
“That too.”  
  
“I’m not gonna die. I’m not done aggravating you yet.”  
  
“Good. I’m not done being aggravated.”  
  
“Brian.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Wanna try out the new chair?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  
Another doctor’s office. Another set of films. Another three dimensional image of Justin’s brain. And there they both sat. Six hours later. Waiting to hear what the doctor had to say.  
  
“The scarring is significant.”  
  
“We _know_ that.”  
  
Brian squeezed Justin’s knee. He needed this guy to like Justin and right now the twat was being difficult even for him to like. Justin ignored Brian’s silent redirection.  
  
“Just tell me what you think will help.”  
  
“We need to go in and map the area around the damage and then remove those areas that are creating the discomfort and communicating poorly.”  
  
“So then what?”  
  
“Well, if the surgery goes well, you should return to your previous state of functioning within a few months.”  
  
“If it doesn’t go well?”  
  
“There are risks with any surgery.”  
  
“But will I end up a vegetable?”  
  
“No. I know there are some more experimental procedures than the one I’m recommending. They might completely alleviate the tremors and difficulty you’ve experienced since your original trauma. I’ll be honest with you. This procedure will not do that. You will still have headaches. You will still have some loss of function in your hand when you’re tired or the muscles are tight or overused. On the other hand, those newer methods are more invasive and require significantly more recovery time. Beyond that their success rate is less optimistic.”  
  
“Less optimistic?”  
  
“If the procedure is a success, you’re very lucky and things will be better than they were. If they do not work… the outcome can be bleak.”  
  
“I could end up a vegetable.”  
  
“It could result in complete loss of function in your arm and hand. In addition there have been several cases where the area to which the communication was rerouted was affected as well.”  
  
“So he could lose his hand and whatever else they fuck with?” Brian interrupted.  
  
“Essentially.”  
  
“But with this. Will the scar tissue return?”  
  
“Probably not. I can’t guarantee it. What I can say is that with the laser technique we now use to remove the damage, we will not have to remove any actual gray matter. We will interrupt a few synapses and those will have to be relearned. I, of course, can not guarantee complete success but even with your episode of temporary paralysis, which was probably merely a severe tremor, we will be able to get you back to your computer and your art.”  
  
“What about painting.”  
  
“Shouldn’t be an issue so long as you listen to your body. If it’s tired, or overworked, you have to give it a break.”  
  
“What about my migraines.”  
  
“From what you’ve described those are related to the current scar tissue and the misfiring synapses. If we correct those, the headaches should abate.”  
  
“Why did the other two doctors want to do something more extreme?”  
  
“Because you’re young. Because you’re an artist and a full recovery, leaving you better off than you were nine years ago is what they’re aiming for. It’s not my goal. My goal is to give you back your life as it was… not as it was before the trauma first happened.”  
  
“But the full recovery better than before option… how much riskier is it?”  
  
“I’ve performed this procedure on over two hundred people.”  
  
“How many have died?”  
  
“Far fewer than those who have recovered.”  
  
“That’s not a number.”  
  
“The procedure is less invasive, less experimental and has a higher efficacy rate of the other options your considering but the choice is ultimately yours Mr. Taylor.”  
  
“When can you do it?”  
  
“Justin.”  
  
“Brian. You said trust something. I trust this. I can’t risk everything.”  
  
“I would recommend early next week. Monday perhaps?”  
  
“That’s… soon.”  
  
“We can schedule it for later if you’d like but the sooner the issue is resolved the sooner you can begin to recover.”  
  
“Monday.”  
  
The doctor smiled and Justin took the information and instructions. “I’ll be there.”  
  
Justin glanced over and Brian’s jaw was grinding. He took his hand. “Let’s go get some lunch and you can tell me why I’m an idiot.”  
  
“I think it’s because you have brain damage.”  
  
Justin laughed and Brian’s jaw seemed to loosen a little. “Let’s go sunshine.”  
  
They walked in silence and eventually ducked into a small diner. The waitress brought them both coffee and when she left Justin started. “Now you’re against my having this done.”  
  
“We need more research.”  
  
“More than the five million pages you’ve printed? More than the medical journals you’ve tried to read? More than the recommendations of three other doctors?”  
  
“Why are you so sure?”  
  
“Because he’s not making promises he can’t keep. I like that in a man… and a doctor.”  
  
Brian drank his coffee and winced. “This shit is worse than the diner.”  
  
“We’ll compare soon enough.”  
  
“You still want to go?”  
  
“Just for the weekend. You don’t have to come.”  
  
“We’ll go.”  
  
“It’s gonna be okay.”  
  
“How do you know?”  
  
“It’s my brain and I say so.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“Okay?”  
  
“Okay. You say so. It’s okay.”  
  
“Brian I know you think I’m taking the easy way out but I’m really not ready to put my life or my ability to ever work again on the line so some guy with a god complex can try out his new toy.”  
  
“I thought you liked guys with god complexes.”  
  
“They’re fun to hang out with when they’re not reminding you that you have brain damage but I learned a long time ago that it’s a bad idea to let them mess with your head.”  
  
“Are you saying I can’t mess with your head?”  
  
“No. I’m telling you that I can only allow one guy with a god complex to mess with my head. Too many cooks…”  
  
Brian nodded. “So this is good news.”  
  
“It is I think.”  
  
“Are you gonna tell anyone?”  
  
“No!” Brian looked up. Justin continued more calmly, “We don’t know yet. I mean, until I’m okay, we don’t know anything. Why make everyone worry?”  
  
  
“Because they’re gonna be pissed when they find out we didn’t?”  
  
“I’ll take the hit on this one.” Justin offered.  
  
“Like that’s your call to make.”  
  
“Brian…”  
  
“You don’t want anyone to know… fine. No one knows.”  
  
“Okay, we’ll tell them so that they don’t yell at you.”  
  
“I can take the yelling. I can even take the two by four Deb's gonna clobber me with.”  
  
“So what can’t you take?”  
  
“Nothing. It’s fine.”  
  
“Bullshit.”  
  
The waitress came back and they ordered. When she left Justin started again… “What can’t you take?”  
  
“I’m okay.”  
  
“Fuck.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I’m a selfish bastard.”  
  
“No pretty sure that’s me.”  
  
“You. You can’t just sit there, alone, waiting.”  
  
“This isn’t about me.”  
  
“Yes it is. That’s… fuck.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I just… I’m… can I plead brain damage on this?”  
  
“Ohh, so when it’s convenient it’s brain damage.” Brian quirked an eyebrow.  
  
“I just. I guess I completely blocked out something really important.”  
  
“Such as?”  
  
“You love me.”  
  
“Not that much really.”  
  
“Pfft.”  
  
“Especially when you do that.”  
  
“You need someone.”  
  
“I’ll be fine.”  
  
“Call Mic… calls Lindsay. Maybe she and Gus…no. That’s um… fuck Brian…”  
  
“Justin. I’m okay.”  
  
“Michael was good for this kind of shit.”  
  
“Yeah, he was.” Brian stole a French fry from Justin. “He just sucked at some other stuff.”  
  
“He was there for you the night of the prom.”  
  
“He was. Ancient history.”  
  
“Repeating itself.”  
  
“Fuck him.”  
  
“Brian you’re gonna get over it eventually. This is a perfect excuse.”  
  
“Not getting over this. He fucked with my kid.”  
  
“He didn’t mean to.”  
  
“You’re defending him?”  
  
“He was… Michael. Wrapped up in his own bullshit.”  
  
“Well now he can keep his bullshit to himself.”  
  
“We could tell my mom.”  
  
“She’s very soothing in a crisis.”  
  
“Good point.”  
  
“Aaron.”  
  
“Aaron?”  
  
“He’ll… you can play video games with him and tell him embarrassing stories about how stupid I was at his age.”  
  
“You’d smartened up by the time you were his age.”  
  
“Pfft. I had brain damage.”  
  
Brian laughed. “I don’t want Aaron to miss school.”  
  
“He’s in college. He’s a sophomore. I’ll bet he can miss a day. I’ll bet he already has.”  
  
“Fucker better graduate.”  
  
“Some Taylor, someday will get a diploma on your dime.”  
  
“He’s paying me back.”  
  
“Pfft.”  
  
“I’m having them take that out when they go digging in your brain.”  
  
“Good, have them insert the last tiny bit of knowledge I’d need to give me a bachelors. It would make you so happy.”  
  
“We can’t tell Aaron.”  
  
“We’re telling Aaron.”  
  
“He’s gonna be…”  
  
“You need him.”  
  
“Stop it I can do this alone.”  
  
“Okay. Then do this for me. I can’t get this done and think about you sitting out there alone. I just can’t.”  
  
“For you.”  
  
“For me.”  
  
“Fine.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  
“You’re having brain surgery?!?” Aaron wasn’t taking the news well.  
  
“It’s minor.”  
  
“Minor brain surgery? I know I’m not like, a college graduate yet but that sounds seriously wrong.”  
  
Justin shrugged. “Has to be done.” He sat on Aaron's bed Aaron was pacing back and forth in the small space.  
  
“Who else knows?”  
  
“No one. That’s why I’m here. I need you to do me a favor.”  
  
“You don’t need like an organ donor do you? I’m not giving you my brain.”  
  
“Shut up. I need you to sit with Brian.”  
  
“Fuck. He’s gotta be freaking.”  
  
“He’s pretending he’s not.”  
  
“Shit. Justin, how’s he gonna get through this?”  
  
“I don’t know. That’s why I want you to be there. He can’t sit there waiting, alone.”  
  
“Maybe we should call Michael.”  
  
“Not sure that’s gonna help him this time.”  
  
“Fuck. I forgot. Michael really fucked up.”  
  
“He was… well, at least I have brain damage as an excuse. Michael was just not fucking thinking.”  
  
“Gus is okay now though right?”  
  
“Yeah. But Brian holds a grudge on shit like that.”  
  
“Even with his best friend?”  
  
“Gus trumps best friend. Gus trumps everyone.”  
  
“Not you.”  
  
“Wouldn’t know. Would never put him in a position to have to make that call.”  
  
“Justin are you okay?”  
  
“I’m gonna be fine.” Justin hoped Aaron believed that. He needed someone with Brian and he needed that person to believe that. “Aaron. Can you do this?”  
  
“What? Yeah. No problem.” Aaron seemed distracted.  
  
“What’s wrong?”  
  
“Other than my brother having brain damage?”  
  
Justin felt a headache coming on and wanted to finish this. He pulled a pill out of his pocket at opened the mini fridge. All beer. No juice or water. He raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Ran out of juice this morning.”  
  
“Uh huh.”  
  
“Here.” Aaron handed him a half empty bottle of water.  
  
“How old is this?”  
  
“I don’t know. Day or two?”  
  
Justin swallowed the pill dry. “So you won’t miss too many classes?”  
  
“Fuck classes. Brian can’t do this alone.”  
  
“He’s not gonna be alone.”  
  
“Have you told Matt, or Becca? Does Lee know?”  
  
“What part of no one do you not get?”  
  
“We should go see Brian.”  
  
”we should leave him alone to brood. He won’t do it in front of me and he needs to do it.”  
  
“He won’t tell you he’s concerned?”  
  
“Yeah, he’ll say that. He won’t show me that he’s pretty fucking broken over this.”  
  
“Aren’t you?”  
  
Justin sagged a little. His shoulders slumped. “Yeah I am.”  
  
“But this will make you better?”  
  
“Better than I am now.”  
  
“But not all the way better?”  
  
“Haven’t been all the way better in years. I’ll get used to it.”  
  
“They can’t totally fix this?”  
  
“They can but it would be a lot more hassle and way more dangerous.”  
  
“But you wouldn’t have a gimp hand at all?”  
  
“That’s what they say.”  
  
“So why don’t you do that one.”  
  
“Because I can’t die.”  
  
“Everyone can die.”  
  
“I don’t want to.”  
  
“No one wants to.”  
  
Justin raised an eyebrow. “You really believe that?”  
  
“Why would anyone want to die?”  
  
“Ask your sister.”  
  
“Don’t call her that.”  
  
“She is.”  
  
“She’s a freak and Jesus she drives your mother insane.”  
  
“She thinks you’re the freak.”  
  
“I am but in that good way. She’s got serious issues.”  
  
“And you’re completely issue free.”  
  
“I am.”  
  
“Your daddy issues are as bad as hers.”  
  
“Bullshit.”  
  
“Craig really fucked with all of us.”  
  
“I do NOT have daddy issues.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Really.”  
  
“So explain this to me. Why do you go after dangerous guys just to get Brian to step in and rescue you?”  
  
“Because he likes it.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“He loves it. You should see him after he does it. He’s all puffed up, and then he goes and fucks someone and swaggers out like he just bought and sold the world.”  
  
“You do it for him?”  
  
“Yeah, what, you think I like those guys groping me and trying to fuck me?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Well, okay, maybe a little but Brian _likes_ to come save me.”  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
“Watch him sometime. I mean he won’t fuck some guy in the backroom if you’re there…but he’ll fuck you.”  
  
“He’ll fuck me whether he has to rescue you or not.”  
  
“Duh.”  
  
“Aaron, He won’t admit he needs anyone, but he does.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“And the thing is. When this is done. I mean when the surgery’s over. There’s gonna be some recovery time.”  
  
“How long.”  
  
“We don’t know yet.”  
  
“So what am I supposed to do?”  
  
“Just make sure he has something to rescue.”  
  
“You just told me to cut that shit out.”  
  
“You’re smarter than I am right now. I have brain damage.”  
  
“Christ. I’ve known that forever.”  
  
“Seriously Aaron. Make sure he has someone to talk to. I’m hoping Lindsay and Gus will be able to come see him but it depends on a lot of things.”  
  
“Like what?”  
  
Justin didn’t say anything.  
  
“Like what?”  
  
“Don’t freak out but we don’t know. They’re gonna fuck with my brain. If I’m a drooling mess with a tendency to scream and yell and shit… he won’t want Gus around. Hell, I won’t want Gus around. Or Lindsay. I’m not gonna be ready to be out in public right away.”  
  
“And Brian won’t leave you like that.”  
  
“That’s what I’m worried about.”  
  
“Him leaving you?”  
  
“Him, sitting at home while I sleep and relearn how to tie my shoes.”  
  
“Justin. If you die….”  
  
“I’m not dying.”  
  
“I know. But if you do…”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Can I turn the studio into a bedroom and move in with Brian?”  
  
Justin laughed. “No.”  
  
“But he’ll need someone.”  
  
“You are not moving in with my sugardaddyclubfreakchildmolester and getting free room and board just because I die.”  
  
“What if you’re like, a drooling vegetable and you need care.”  
  
“You gonna wipe my ass for me?”  
  
“Gross.”  
  
“So that’s a no?”  
  
“I just don’t want Brian to get all scary.”  
  
“Scary?”  
  
“You’ve never seen him without you. It’s scary.”  
  
“You’ve never seen him without me.”  
  
“Right before you guys decided to move to New York.”  
  
“What about it.”  
  
“You were away for a while.”  
  
“Six and a half weeks.”  
  
“Yeah well, that half a week made all the difference.”  
  
“What happened?”  
  
“He was scary.”  
  
“Find a new word.”  
  
“He was Molly scary.”  
  
“He stopped eating and played with sharp things?”  
  
“No. He stopped eating and played with…”  
  
“With what?”  
  
“I’m not supposed to tell you this.”  
  
“Tell me what?”  
  
“He swore me to secrecy.”  
  
“He didn’t mean it.”  
  
“The fuck he didn’t.”  
  
“Did he have a death wish moment?”  
  
Aaron looked up at Justin, surprised. “Yeah. You know about those?”  
  
“Heard tell.”  
  
“He ended up in the hospital.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“That was my fault though.”  
  
“You put him in the hospital?”  
  
“He said he was tired. I thought he was wasted.”  
  
“He was probably both.”  
  
“Little too much of both.”  
  
“So what the fuck happened?”  
  
“It’s a much smaller deal than it’s gonna sound like.”  
  
Justin pinched the bridge of his nose. “I owe Brian like a hundred blowjobs.”  
  
“In a row?”  
  
“Shut up. I just realized how annoying it is to know you’re about to hear something nasty and be told that it’s no big deal.”  
  
“It’s not that nasty.”  
  
“Tell me a story.”  
  
Aaron sighed and grabbed a beer. He handed one to Justin. “We left Babylon but he said he had somewhere else to be. I figured the baths or whatever and was headed back to the loft.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“I don’t think Brian knew I was there. Guess he thought I went home.”  
  
“Silly man.”  
  
“I know, right?”  
  
“So anyway, hours later I hear him come home and whatever. Couple hours later it’s morning and he’s… well, he’s not moving. He was... he took…”  
  
“What did he take?”  
  
“Still not sure. Pretty much alphabet soup. And he’s laying there fully clothed, face down on the bed, taking up all of it, which he never does by the way, he always sleeps on his side.”  
  
Justin nodded. He’d expected as much. And I’m starving and there’s no food, cause you know… who keeps food in their own home. So I want money to go get food.”  
  
“Why didn’t you go to the diner, Deb would have fed you.”  
  
“If I came cashless she’d offer me the busboy position again.”  
  
“She likes to keep her boys close.”  
  
“Whatever. So his wallet is in his back pocket. And I try to wake him but he won’t fucking wake up.”  
  
“Oh Jesus Christ.”  
  
“I know, right? So I’m like, whoa, and I keep trying to wake him but he won’t get up and he’s kind of… well, not breathing so much.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“He’s like, a little blue in the lips and he wouldn’t wake up and there are a couple of empty bottles by him.”  
  
“Beam?”  
  
“And whatever that shit he takes to relax is.”  
  
“Xanax I think.”  
  
“Whatever both bottles empty and I panicked and called 911”  
  
“He must have fucking loved that.”  
  
“Couldn’t say much about it at the time. They pumped his stomach. Gave him something that he fucking hated. Made him keep the IV in. When he woke up he tried to pull it out and leave.”  
  
“Not surprising.”  
  
“They wanted to get him a psych consult but he swore he’d just overdone it. Working and then too much to drink.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“So he finally gets out of there and he’s still not totally okay but they can’t keep him and I go back with him and he’s mumbling and miserable and I’m pretty sure he was lying about having taken the last two in the bottle. I think he had one of those moment things.”  
  
“A death wish moment.”  
  
“Yeah. He thought you guys were over.”  
  
“He’s delusional. We’ll never be over.”  
  
“I told him that. He told me I didn’t know shit and that I should just leave him alone.”  
  
“Did you?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Then what happened?”  
  
“You showed up remember?”  
  
“That was the day before I showed up?”  
  
“Well, two days before.”  
  
“He said he got a blood test.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“He had tape gum on his arm from a bandage. Said he got a blood test.”  
  
“He didn’t. He got an IV taped to his arm because they didn’t know if his heart was gonna stop. Plus I think he was dehydrated. Alcohol does that.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“So you know, don’t die because Brian won’t last that long without you.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“Were you really gonna leave him?”  
  
“No. He’s got brain damage too.”  
  
“What the fuck happened?”  
  
“I missed a visit. I had a client and a headache”  
  
“He thought you and your fuck buddy were back together.”  
  
“Haven’t seen that guy since I ditched his ass.”  
  
“Well, Brian thought you were done with him. That’s what he said. He said you’d finally finished with him.”  
  
“I have to go kick his ass now.”  
  
“You can’t.”  
  
“Why not.”  
  
“You’re not allowed to know this.”  
  
“Fuck.”  
  
“Don’t die Justin. I like Brian.”  
  
Justin laughed. “I like him too, and I’m not dying but you’ll…”  
  
“Yeah, I’ll be there. He can’t do this alone.”  
  
“No shit. I’ve gotta go. We’re leaving for Pittsburgh in a couple hours.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Just a quick visit to…” Justin looked and there were tears in Aaron's eyes. “fuck Aaron don’t.”  
  
“You’re going to like, say goodbye.”  
  
“Jesus, you and Brian share a brain sometimes. I’m going to see my mother and my sister.”  
  
“Because you think you may never see them again.”  
  
“Because I haven’t been back since we moved.”  
  
“Are you really okay?”  
  
“I think so, but don’t trust what I say. I have brain damage.”  
  
Aaron laughed a little. “I’ll be there okay.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“Bye.”  
  
“Later.”  
  
~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  
Justin walked for a while heading no where in particular and trying to process the new information Aaron had just given him.  
  
The weekend they’d decided to move to New York had been amazing and hellish but he never really understood Brian’s absolute certainty that this was the right thing to do before. He got it now. Brian’s life really did depend on it. He probably had only taken one or two Xanax. He probably hadn’t really had a death wish. He probably hadn’t believed that Justin was done with him. But at the time Aaron found him… he also probably hadn’t cared much.  
  
What was it he had told Molly? _if someone saves you, cool and if not… no great loss.”_ fuck. Brian was one messed up motherfucker. Justin straightened his shoulders and hailed a cab. He had to get home. He needed to see Brian.  
  
~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Click on the photo to see full sized pics of the new furniture.  
  
[](http://img.villagephotos.com/p/2006-3/1165533/KITDesk.jpg)  
Brian’s Desk  
  
[](http://img.villagephotos.com/p/2006-3/1165533/KITSofa.jpg)  
Sofa  
  
[](http://img.villagephotos.com/p/2006-3/1165533/KitTable.jpg)  
Dining Room Table  
  
[](http://img.villagephotos.com/p/2006-3/1165533/KITchairs.jpg)  
Dining Room Chairs (the black ones)  
  
[](http://img.villagephotos.com/p/2006-3/1165533/KITGusbedroom.jpg)  
Gus’s Bedroom  
  
[](http://img.villagephotos.com/p/2006-3/1165533/KITArearug.jpg)  
Area Rug  
  
[](http://img.villagephotos.com/p/2006-3/1165533/KITCHAIR.jpg)  
Chair They Tried Out  
  
[](http://img.villagephotos.com/p/2006-3/1165533/KITBedroom.jpg)  
Their Bedroom...which they already had but i thought you might want to see it...  
oh and there are heavier curtians  
  



	8. Chapter 8

* * *

**Keeping It Together**

**Chapter Eight**

* * *

Justin opened the door and was glad to find Brian awake and relatively unoccupied. He was sitting on the sofa flipping through channels. Justin hung his coat on the hook took a deep breath and tried to swallow his fear and anger. It wasn’t working very well. He moved towards Brian.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“We have to leave in an hour.”

“Yeah. We packed?”

“I packed for us both. How’d it go with Aaron?”

“He’s upset.”

“He okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

“Tell me something.”

“What?” Brian turned to look at him.

“Are you completely fucking insane?” Justin did his best not to yell.

Brian looked confused and Justin repeated the question.

“Opinions vary.” Brian took another swallow of beer and shrugged.

“I’m fucking serious.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You. Hospital. Stomach pump. Any of this ringing a bell?”

“I’m going to fucking kill your half-breed.”

“Not gonna have a chance. I’m thinking I’m gonna kill you first.”

“It was nothing.”

“Then why’d you tell me it was blood tests?”

“Huh?”  
  


“I asked about the tape on your arm. You said blood tests.”

“Wasn’t a complete lie. They did blood tests.”

“You almost died.”

“Kid has a propensity for drama.”

“You have a propensity for death wish moments.”

“Wasn’t one of those.” Brian looked away. Justin turned his head back to look at him. 

“It was.”

“Doesn’t matter. Over.”

“Not.”

“Justin.”

“Brian I’m not fucking around. In what world do you NOT tell me this?”

“In the world where you stopped painting and I find out about it a year later.”

“Not the same thing”

“You sure?”

“Pretty damn sure.”

“It was over. You’d have heard if it had been important.”

Justin pushed Brian backwards on the sofa. He moved until his knees were on either side of Brian’s hips. “Your life is pretty fucking important.”

“Okay.”

Justin wrapped his fingers around Brian's wrists and held them against the sofa. “Listen to me.” He made sure they had eye contact. Brian looked a little scared and Justin didn’t want to be gratified by that but he needed this to get through. 

“I’m not fucking going anywhere. I’ll have it tattooed on me if that helps. And I don’t know how many times I have to say it but I’m fucking done. You’re it for me.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” That’s what I get? I want more. Justin didn’t release his grip.

“You have all of me what more do you want?”

“To know that all of you isn’t going anywhere just because you’re the most insecure arrogant asshole I’ve ever met.”

“I’m insecure and arrogant?”

“It’s not an easy balance but you mange.”

Brian huffed out a laugh and Justin gripped his arms a little tighter and pushed them against the sofa. “Not fucking kidding about this.”

“Justin. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Unless I’m not around.”

“If you’re not around, what do you care?”

“I just do. Always have.”

“Aaron over reacted.”

“He probably did. Doesn’t mean you weren’t in a dangerous place.”

“I was at home in my bed…most dangerous place I know.”

“Cut it out.”

“What do you want from me?”

Justin leaned in and kissed Brian. “That. For the next couple hundred years. Not really possible if you die.”

“Couple hundred years?”

“Medical breakthroughs.”

“Then I want something.”

“What?”

“Pretty much the same thing.”

“Huh?”

“You’re not dying.”

“I know.”

“So you’re not saying goodbye. We’ll catch a plane. You’ll see your mommy. You can see whomever you want but there are no goodbyes. This is not goodbye.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“I think so.”

“Let go of my arms.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re gonna leave bruises and you’ll hate the explanations I give for them.”

Justin let go of Brian’s arms. “Tell me what happened.”

“It’s over.”

“Still want to know.”

“What’s the point now?”

“I want to know why six and a half weeks is your breaking point.”

“I don’t have a breaking point.”

“Pfft. You have hundreds. I think I’ve hit most of them. Tell me about this.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It’s history.”

“Recent history.”

“Like your momentary paralysis?”

“I told you about that.”

“Well I’m not telling you about this.” Brian tried to buck Justin off of him and stand up. Justin sat back on Brian's thighs. 

“Tell me a story.”

“Justin.”

“Brian.”

Brian sighed. “I was tired. I lost track of what I’d taken. Aaron panicked. I almost ended up in the psych ward.”

“Because you thought I’d what? Finished with you.”

“Something like that”

“Because we were both busy for a while.”

“Because even when we’d been together the last couple of times you weren’t there.”

“Bullshit.”

“You were… “

“I was sick.”

“I didn’t know that.”

Justin leaned back, pulling off of Brian completely. “Shit.”

“What?”

“Just another thing I want to yell at you about but then it turns out to be my fault.”

“Not your fault you’re sick.”

“My fault I didn’t tell you.”

“You should have told me. Not giving you a pass on that one.”

“But…”

“There was a lot going on. Lindsay and Mel. Lindz calling me daily. Gus calling me almost hourly in tears.”

“Hit him really hard.”

“Yeah.”

“And then you know…we were having a rough time with some scheduling issues.”

“I had a headache.”

“What?”

“That’s why I couldn’t come up at the end of October. I had a headache.”

“And you told me you had a client.”

“Headache made me sound like a housewife.”

“Client made you sound like you didn’t give a shit.”

“I did. That’s why I came as soon as I could.”

“As soon as your brain damage wasn’t acting up.”

“Essentially.”

“You didn’t call first.”

“Was I supposed to?”

“No.”

“You just showed up.”

“And you almost didn’t let me in.”

“That was a fucked up weekend.”

“We were fucked up then.”

“Apparently six weeks is our breaking point.”

“Well then we never go six weeks without physical contact again.”

“Deal.”

“And you never pull any shit like that again.”

“It wasn’t planned.”

“Yes it was.”

“Only a little.”

“A little is too much planning.”

“So next time no planning involved.”

Justin punched Brian’s shoulder. “Don’t fucking joke about this.”

“Christ, the two of you… both fucking drama queens.”  
  


“Neither of us took a bunch of pills because they felt unloved.”

“Fuck. You.”

“Brian. I love you. I’m not going anywhere. I wasn’t going anywhere. The fuck buddy thing had been over for almost a year. What the fuck?”

Brian shrugged. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“Cut it the fuck out.”

“Fine.”

“And I’ll tell you when I hurt.”

“You’d better. Justin, You can’t keep hiding shit like this. Especially now. You’re gonna push too hard with your rehab and the doctor’s already said, best case scenario, you still can’t push too hard. You have to…”

“Brian. Can we get through the fucking thing before we start making rules about how I act after it?”

“No.”

“No?”

“We’re getting through it. That’s not even up for debate. So now is as good a time as any to remind you that you have to be honest about how you’re doing, and careful about how hard you push yourself or I’ll throw you into a lovely rehab place that can keep an eye on you twenty four seven.”

“You’d just ship me off?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“You would not.”

“To keep you safe?”

“Fuck. You would.”

“So…”

“So I don’t push it.”

“Right.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“I know you.”

“Oh yeah.”

“But you don’t push it too hard and you don’t give up.”

“And you?”

“What about me?”

“You promise no more death wish moments?”

“I promise I won’t act on them.”

“Really?”

“Sure.”

“You’re just gonna deny that you did act on one.”

“Let’s just get ready to go to the airport.”

“This weekend is gonna be rough.”

“Not if you don’t make it rough.”

“Am I just supposed to pretend?”

“You’ve done it for me. Think you can do it for a few more days?”

“Maybe.”

“So you gonna be okay?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Always.”

“Then I’ll choose to be okay I guess.”

“Good. I like it better when you lie.”

“Liar.”

“We both are.”

“Oh yeah.”

“But see you have a good excuse…”

“Brain damage.”

“Brain damage.”

Brian kissed him and Justin pulled his head closer. when the separated they were both smiling. Neither was sure why.

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

the flight was uneventful. Justin fell asleep in the cab on the way back to the loft. Brian woke him when they arrived.

“did I sleep?”

Brian laughed. “yeah.”

“must have been tired.”

“Ya think?”

“Shut up.”

“Whatever…c’mon princess… I’ve got to go check in at Babylon and I want to catch Ted before he leaves the office.”

“You go. I’ll take the bags upstairs.”

Brian nodded and handed Justin his bag. He got into the ‘vette and then stopped. “You okay?” he yelled to Justin who was heading towards the stairs. 

“What? Yeah. Fine. Tired. Nap.”

Brian pulled out of the garage and headed towards KinnetiK first. Always best to surprise Ted. His expression was priceless.

Justin headed upstairs put the bags down and set the alarm. He knew he should unpack Brian’s stuff before it got wrinkled but he was too tired. He was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Brian pushed open the door to Ted’s office to find him mid conversation with someone. He did look surprised but not startled. Brian had to admit he was a little disappointed. He didn’t worry about it. He could startle Ted later if he wanted to. He sat in the chair across from Ted's desk and picked up a stress ball. He was tossing it from hand to hand, his feet resting on the edge of the smooth glass surface as he waited for Ted to finish.

Ted stammered through the rest of his phone conversation and hung up.

“Brian, what are you doing here?”  
  


“It’s my company.”

“I mean here in Pittsburgh.”

“Justin and I decided to take a weekend off.”

“In Pittsburgh?”

“I heard you were embezzling.”

“And yet I’m still in Pittsburgh?”

Brian laughed. “Good point. Anything I need to know?”

“Nothing I didn’t already email you or Cynthia about. So what are you really doing here?”

“Justin wanted to see his mommy. I couldn’t’ let the boy fly all by himself.”

“The 27 year old boy who’s been living alone in New York for four years…that boy?”

“That’s the one.”

“You’ll be at Deb’s on Sunday?”

“Don’t’ know yet.”

“Michael…”

“Fuck Michael.”

“Brian, he’s really sorry.”

“Fuck sorry.”

“He didn’t mean…”

“Don’t fuck things up Ted.”

“Whatever. See you later.”

“Yeah. Call me if you need anything.”

“Don’t I always.”

Brian smiled. They were not going to Debbie's. Not if Michael was gonna be there. He headed towards Babylon to see what had fallen apart in the two months since he’d been around to keep an eye on things but everything was fine. Angel greeted from behind the bar.

“Hey Brian.”

“Angel. What’s up?”  
  


“Tap’s shot. Have to change it out. Be right back.”

Brian nodded and lit a cigarette. He and angel covered some business issues and then he wandered upstairs to Justin’s studio. 

He looked at it closely. He wasn’t even sure Justin would be able to get to it next week. What if he lost motor function in his legs? What if he couldn’t? Brian shook his head. He couldn’t think like that. One of them had to believe this was gonna be okay. He ran a hand over an unfinished painting and felt the texture of the dry paint against his fingers. He wondered how he hadn’t noticed that Justin had stopped painting. But then he rarely worked when they were together… when they found time to be together it was usually spent in bed, or out with family and friends. They tried to keep their lives going but then the strong pull of one another would come crashing back and Brian would find himself leaving the office at three when a normal day saw him leaving at seven.

Justin would go into the studio, or sit in front of his computer and a few hours later he’d shut it resolutely and Brian would find himself naked before he had much time to think. It just worked like that… and it worked… 'Til it didn’t.

He winced at the memory and pushed it away. It wasn’t a death wish moment. He’d missed Justin's, sure, hell, was that news? He’d gotten fucked up. Nothing new there. Aaron had queened out. Not exactly surprising. 

And then Justin had just shown up. It wasn’t completely unprecedented but Brian was pretty sure that it would be a while before he saw him again. Their last visit had been less than successful. Justin had been wrapped up in work and Brian had been sweating the Remson FDA approval status. They’d sniped and snarked and were both pretty unsatisfied by the time Brian drove Justin to the airport.

Three weeks later Justin postponed a visit.

A week after that Remson had needed him and he’d had to cancel a New York trip.

A week after than Justin postponed his visit again.

A week and a half later he showed up at the door as if nothing was wrong. Brian was sick of Aaron’s hovering. He was sure that Justin would find another excuse to postpone or push off Brian’s plan to come to New York. He had been debating just hopping a plane and showing up when Justin walked in. 

There he stood all sunshine smile and confident swagger as if nothing had ever been out of sync. Brian was still feeling a little shaky and nauseous and the fight started almost before the hello kiss was over.

Okay. Brian amended in his head. They’d fucked. Hard, rough, needy, angry. It had been hot. The fight started once their eyes were able to focus again.

Justin had gotten defensive. Brian had withdrawn and then he’d gotten really angry. He’d seduced Justin then, just to prove he still could. And he did. The only problem was it reminded him that he wasn’t the only one with the power to bring the other to his knees, literally in this thing they had.

And that had made him angry again, and Justin had felt it and taken the offensive this time. And so it went.

When they finally got around to talking it was Sunday. Justin had shown up on a Friday night. He remembered that conversation. They were finally somewhere near the same page, both angry, both kind of sated, both admitting that they’d missed each other. Brian had sat on the chair downstairs and Justin was leaning against him as if this was the first day of their weekend and not the end of a long battle that neither was sure had a point or an end. Brian was running his fingers through Justin’s hair and Justin’s hand was tracing Brian’s fingers as his hand splayed across the kid’s thigh.

 

_“We going to Deb’s?”_

_“Fuck no. I’ve had enough loud drama.”_

_“Sorry.”_

_“It’s all your fault.”_

_“I think it is.”_

_“Cut it out.”_

_“This sucks.”_

_“I know.”_

_“Not just the leaving.”_

_Brian remembered freezing then. He was sure this was when Justin came to his senses and said that a long distance thing with an asshole was not worth he effort._

_“Being here sucks?”_

_“No. Being not here sucks.”_

_“Well eventually.”_

_“When?”_

_“What?”_

_“What are we waiting for Brian? I’ve got a job I can do from anywhere now. I make a decent living. I’ve got contacts if I want my stuff shown. Why are we still not living together?”_

_“I didn’t think you were ready.”_

_“I am.”_

_“You sure?”_

_“Never been more.”_

_“Really?”_

_“Stop trying to talk me out of it.”_

_“I’m not. I’m just surprised. You love New York.”_

_“Love you more.”_

_“You sure?”_

_“You’re fucking doubting it?”_

_“You’ve been…”_

_“I’ve been tired. And busy. And this is bullshit.”_

_“It is.”_

_“I don’t want to fight with you.”_

_“Then we’re in trouble.”_

_“We are?”_

_“You want to live with me and you expect no fights? We’re not doing this if you can’t be realistic.”_

_“Realistic is that I want to be with you. I want our fights to be long an passionate and brutally painful and when they’re over…neither of us has to get on a plane.”_

_“We can do that.”_

_“We can?”_

_“Yeah, but…”_

_“What?”_

_“Have you considered New York?”_

_“I think I can live without me.”_

_“I didn’t mean its feelings retard. I mean considered living there with me.”_  
  
”You have…”

_“Nothing here I can’t have there. And Remson got the FDA approval.”_

_“When?”_  
  


_“Couple days ago. They’re announcing first of the month.”_

_“Oh my fucking god, you’re so rich.”_

_He remembered the feel of Justin’s hair tickling his nose and he laughed into it. He remembered a sense of calm he shouldn’t have felt at the idea of uprooting his life. He remembered a lot of things and mostly, he remembered that Justin would have moved back without question._

Brian pulled himself out of his reverie and headed towards the loft. He knew there had probably been signs through all of it about Justin’s head. He’d had a couple of migraines that Brian had seen. He’d call him sometimes and not be able to reach him only to find out later that he’d had a headache and turned his phone off.

He’d trusted Justin to tell him if something were wrong. Apparently that’s where he made his mistake. 

He opened the loft door and Justin was asleep. Both bags were still in front of the steps. Fucker hadn’t bothered to unpack.

Brian unpacked for the both of them and then did a quick walk through of the space. The maid had been keeping up apparently. Didn’t look too dusty. The sheets were fresh. No signs of water damage. Satisfied he took off his clothes and woke Justin up with a kiss to his temple. Well, okay, it started with a kiss to his temple but the kid fucking slept like the dead. It was his tongue in Justin’s ass that finally brought him back to full consciousness. 

“You’re home.” Were pretty much the last coherent words Justin said.

They were laying in their favorite post coital position. On their backs Justin’s head leaning a little on Brian’s shoulder. Sharing a cigarette. “God I needed that.”

“You needed the sleep too.”

“I think I needed the fucking more.”

“You should have said something.”

“You had stuff to check on.”

“Would have stayed.”

“I knew you were coming back.”

Brian took the cigarette from Justin’s hand. “Who knows we’re in town?”

“My mom. Lunch with her tomorrow. And then I thought we’d have dinner at the diner so I could see Debbie. I kind of figured you weren’t ready for Sunday dinner at her house.”

“Kind of figured right.”

“You have to talk to him you know.”

“No I don’t.”

“Brian… he’s your best friend.”

“Since we were fourteen.”

“Okay, he’s annoying but…”

“He’s not my best friend. He proved that.”

“You love him.”

“Loved. Can’t love guy who’d hurt people I care about.”

“But…”

Brian stood up. “Drop it. I’m not doing this. And do start meddling now. It didn’t work then, it won’t work now.”

“It worked then.”

“That was different. That was…”  
  


“That was you pushing him away because he needed to move on. This is…”

“This is him NOT moving on. He should have fucking stayed in Portland.”

“Brian that’s not fair.”

Brian pulled a bottle of water from the refrigerator and offered one to Justin. Justin nodded and pulled on sweatpants before taking the water and himself to the sofa. “You’re not being fair to him.”

“And he was to me?”

“Whatever. You have to deal with this.”

“Maybe.”

“So you’re not saying no?”

“I’m saying no to you interfering.”

“Fine. No interference from me. It’s weird to be here and not think Aaron’s gonna come wandering in.”

“He’s safely home in his dorm.”

“It’s Friday night. He’s dangerously out somewhere getting wasted.”

“Sounds about right.”

“Do you like rescuing him?”

“What?”

“He says you like it.”

“He’s cracked.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“But…”

“He never got what he needed from your father. He never went out and found his own sugardaddyclubfreakchildmolester. He likes to know someone cares.”

“That’s what I told him.”

“And he told you what? He does it so I can play hero?”

“Pretty much.”  
  


“The two of you are quite the pair.”

“He thinks I came here to say goodbye.”

Brian ran a hand down Justin's chest and pulled his back closer to his own chest as the sat staring at the muted television. “Didn’t you?”

“No. I told you. I’m not done aggravating you yet.”

“So what are we doing here?”

“Remembering.”

“What?”

“All of it.”

“It didn’t all happen here.”

“Most of it did. Lot of firsts in this place.”

“For you.”

“For you too.”

“Sorry Sunshine. I wasn’t a virgin when you met me.”

“Not the same way I was. You were a virgin about so many things though.”

“Really? You think so?”

“I know so.”

“You really think you’re the first Twinkie I ever let move in with me and drive me insane?”

“I’m not?”

“Nope, did it once a year for about five years before I met you. Took some innocent little kid to bed, popped his cherry, broke his heart, let him hang around and then eventually the kid would take off.”

“So I’m just the only one that came back.”

“Yep.”

“What the fuck are you on?”

Brian laughed. “Nothing. You’re just so fucking smug.”

“Cause you love me.”

“You’re so sure of that.”

“It’s about the only thing I’m sure of these days.”

“To quote a guy I know ‘Pfft’.”

“Hey! I don’t say that all the time and you _do_ love me.”

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

“How many virgins _have_ you popped in that bed?”

“Just you… usually like a guy who knows what he’s doing.”

“I’m so not your type.”

“You’re not. Hey, maybe we can have them fix that on Monday.”

“Maybe. What else should they fix?”

“We covered, Pfft. And then the making you my type. Which is pointless now, because you’re not exactly a blushing virgin anymore.”

“I could be if you wanted me to be.”

“S’okay, it’s cute for a while. I still prefer a guy who knows what he’s doing.”

“Well, I only know because you taught me.”

“Me and anyone “totally hot” on Liberty Avenue.”  
  


“Well, there were some hot guys. And you refused to fuck me EVERY night…like it might break some rule you hadn’t already broken.”

“I didn’t break that many rules for you.”

“Pfft.”

Brian laughed. “Okay, I didn’t have that many rules.”

“But you broke _all_ of them.”

“Shut up twat.”

“Are you still gonna call me a twat when I’m drooling and can’t tie my shoes?”

“Shut up.”

“Seriously.”

“No. Then I’m gonna call you brain damaged twat.”

“That’s so mean.”

“Who’ll know?”

“Good point. Oh Aaron will…I told him to keep an eye on you.”

“You what?”

“I told him that you might take advantage of me in my weakened state and to watch out for me.”

“Mmm hmmm. He’d so take my side in any fight.”

“Yeah, what’s up with that?”

“He like me better.”

“Well, leave it to a Taylor twink to find the good in you.”

“It is one of their more endearing characteristics.”

“We have endearing characteristics?”  
  


“One or two.”

“Well, anyway, no abusing the brain damaged loser or Aaron will turn you in.”

“Turn me into what?”

“To whom… and I don’t know, whoever is in charge of stuff like that.”

“Tell you what. Don’t be a drooling retard and then we won’t have to worry.”

“At least they won’t have to shave my head.”

“That is good.”

“Although with these headaches a flip top skull sounds really appealing.”

“The headaches are supposed to get better. You have one now?”

“Little. But it’s okay. I am _not_ going to miss them though.”

“Really? I will. You come up with such lovely mental images.”

“Huh?”

“You get very graphic in your descriptions of how you’d like to get to the pain. Ice pick through the skull, plucking your eyes out. You had that long thought process about how we could pack your ears and nose with chloraseptic spray until the numbing effects got to your brain. I think you were gonna stand on your head.”

“Shut up. They made sense at the time.”

“Know why?”

“Brain damage?”

“Brain damage.” Brian kissed the top of his head the way he often did when saying those words.

“Let’s order in. I have a strong desire for pizza and then I’d like to fuck you.”

“Hmmm. Funny. I have a strong desire for a Caesar salad and then I’m gonna fuck _you_.

Justin stretched and smiled. “We’ll see.”

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

Lunch was with Molly and Jennifer. Brian knew that Jennifer could tell something was wrong but he also knew that Jennifer wouldn’t mention it. Justin remained chatty and upbeat and Brian also knew that he was putting a lot of effort into it. He didn’t realize how much until they got back to the loft and Justin almost collapsed onto the sofa. 

“Headache?”

“No. Just…”

“Molly’s eating at least.”

“Today.”

“Take what you can get.”

“Yeah. My mother knows something’s up.”

“She’ll call me later.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m psychic. And she told me she was going to.”

“She did?”

“Yeah. She knows something’s up. She thinks I’ll tell her.”

“Will you?”

“Can I?”

“No.”

“Then no.”  
  


“You think I’m being an asshole not telling anyone.”

“No. I think you were an asshole not telling me.”

“I would have told you about the surgery.”  
  


“Good to know you draw the line somewhere.”

“I don’t have the energy for this.”

“That’s cause you have brain damage.”

“I can’t pick the right words to describe how hard I hate you.”

“That’s ‘cause you have brain damage.”  
  


“Okay, if I wasn’t going to have the surgery I would now… just so you’ll stop saying that.”

“You’re only saying that because you have brain damage.”

“Argggghhhhhaaaahh!” Justin threw a pillow at Brian’s head. He ducked. “You could at least have let it hit you.”

“Get hit by someone with brain damage? How could I live with myself?”

“Oh my fucking god. When this is over I’m never giving you another blow job.”

“But you will now?”

“Yeah, because you know, you’re um… I have no idea why just C’mere.”

Brian did.

~***~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~****~**~*~*~*~

Dinner at the diner was even less fun. Deb was loud and Justin was fighting off a headache. He’d taken two pills and they were working but left him feeling a little groggy. He kept rubbing his temples and playing with his butter knife. Brian took the knife from him.

“Hey.”  
  


“You’re thinking about plucking your eyes out.”

“Only to rinse them off.”

“Yeah well when you’re this heavily medicated… I don’t trust you not to give in to temptation.”

“A spoon would work better anyway.”

Brian slid all of Justin’s silverware away from him. Justin stuck his tongue out and Brian laughed. His laugh stopped immediately and his body tensed when the bells over the door jangled. 

Justin’s back was to the door but one look at Brian’s face told him all he needed to know. He reached out a hand to cover Brian’s but Brian pulled his hand away. 

“Brian.”

“It’s fine.”

Michael saw then and approached but he saw Brian’s face and stepped back. “Brian I…”

“Fuck off Michael.”

“I just wanted to… Gus is okay right?”

“Like you care? Fuck off.”

“Can we talk?”

“Not right now.”

“Justin… I’m really. I didn’t…”

“Michael.” Justin had a hand up to his temple and his eyes were closed. “Fuck off. Okay?”

Michael backed away and left without his order. Deb came out and looked for him.

“They said Michael was here.”

“He left.”

“You two should patch things up.”

Brian looked at Debbie and she sat down next to Justin. “He didn’t mean it Brian. He made a mistake.”

“Yeah well… he should have thought.”

“He just did what he thought was…”

“Deb. I can’t talk about this now.”

Kiki brought their orders over and Justin didn’t seem in the mood to eat. Brian was no longer hungry. They had the food wrapped up and went back to the loft where Brian made sure the shades were pulled and the lights were out before he put Justin to bed. 

“I’ve got to check on Babylon.”

“Go. I can’t move.”

“I’m…”

“I’m fine. Mikey’s an asshole. Go away.”

“We’ll go home tomorrow.”

“I know.”

“You’ll be okay.”

“I guess.”

“Justin.”

“I know, it just hurts okay.”

“Okay.”

Brian left. He’d have stayed if there were a damn thing he could do but there wasn’t. Justin needed quiet. He couldn’t watch TV. If he did any more research on the procedure he’d scream and he really did want to see how Babylon was doing in his absence. He closed the door quietly.

When he came back, several hours later Justin was asleep and he was drunk. Babylon was doing fine. The back room was holding up beautifully and the VIP lounge was still full of the most beautiful gay men Pittsburgh had to offer.

He slid into bed and risked reaching an arm out for Justin. 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

Justin was feeling better when he heard Brian come in. He felt the bed dip and then a warm strong hand on his waist and he turned.

“You smell good.”

“I smell like…”

“Sex. And chivas regal on the rocks and…” Justin leaned in a little closer. “Some really good cologne that’s not yours.”

“Babylon is holding up well.”

“So are you.”

“You’re head feel better?”

“One of them does.”

“Are you feeling neglected?”

“I wasn’t but now you smell irresistible.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Justin moved until his body was on top of Brian’s. “I think I need you to fuck me now.”

“You think?”  
  


“Can’t be sure. Might be the brain damage talking.”

Brian ran both his hands through Justin’s hair. His fingers spreading until his entire scalp was encompassed by the feel of it. He leaned his head back and luxuriated in the sensation. “That feels good.”

Brian's hands moved down Justin's neck, to his shoulders, grazing over the back of his arms. He pulled Justin forward and kissed him. 

“Mmmmmm.”

Justin leaned forward reaching for a condom. He turned around to slide it on Brian’s cock and as he did pushed his ass into Brian's face. He heard him groan and grinned. _never fucking fails_ he thought to himself as Brian’s hands found their way to his hips and pulled him closer.

He was moaning and keening as Brian’s tongue invaded him. Everything was forgotten in the heat of this moment. In this bed. Here.

And that’s why he wanted to come back. Yes. He wanted to see his mother. His sister. Debbie. But more than anything he wanted Brian to fuck him in the loft. He wanted this small piece of the world they had before he’d heard anything about scar tissue and procedures and brain damage, and options, and recovery times, and complications and all of the bullshit that came with this. He just wanted to be young and in love with a man who could make him come so hard he saw stars that didn’t mean he’d be laid up for three days with a headache that made him envy the dead.

And Brian was doing just what he’d wanted him to. He was playing him. Fucking him with his tongue and driving him to the edge only to stop as soon as he let out any indication that he was close. And no matter how he tried… he always ended up whimpering and growling. 

He felt Brian stop again and he wanted to scream. Instead he twisted his hips and turned around, ready to impale himself on Brian’s more than ready hard on. Brian stopped him. He pushed him to the side a bit and Justin knew what he wanted. He was on his knees his legs wide. His face against the pillow and Brian was inside him. One smooth thrust and the pain was intense.

He moaned against it. And felt Brian wait while he adjusted. He didn’t want to wait and began to move almost immediately. Brian held him still. Justin bucked against the restraints of Brian’s hand on his hip and on the small of his back. Brian refused to relinquish control. “I’ll get you there.”

Justin growled, and Brian pulled back stroking him from the inside. Justin sighed contentedly and let Brian take the control… or keep it, or whatever.

He was incoherent and he knew it. He was making no sense and when he felt like he was about to come he bit his lip. And then he realized that his silence was probably as much of a tell as the sounds but it was too late and Brian stopped. He pulled out completely and stroked his back, his thighs. His shoulders. He leaned over and licked at his ear, whispering. “Don’t come yet Justin. I’ll tell you when but just wait.”

Justin wanted to say something but there was nothing to say. He nodded into the pillow and Brian slid back inside him so slowly it was agonizing. 

“Brian. Please.”

“Gonna fuck you…” Brian’s forehead was between Justin’s shoulder blades, his breath sent shivers down Justin’s spine. “Gonna fuck my good wet little boy 'til you’re begging.”

“Now Brian I’m begging now.”

“Not yet. Wait for me. Can you wait? Can you be a good boy for me Justin? Such a little slut sometimes, can’t wait, but you will won’t you?”

Justin moaned his agreement as Brian continued his descriptions of what he was doing. What he was going to do. What he would do later. 

Justin didn’t want anything else. Wanted right now to be Brian’s good little boy. To have someone take care of all of this. Take care of him. And he knew he was crying into the pillow so he buried his face to hide the tears from Brian but at moments like this…there was really nothing about Justin’s body that Brian was unaware of. He felt a finger in his mouth. Felt a thumb brush under his eye. Felt Brian kiss his back. 

Felt Brian become more gentle. His words more soothing and then he felt the orgasm build. Hands everywhere, spanning his waist sliding up his chest. Pulling him up 'til his back was flush with Brian’s chest. Brian’s words in his ear. His hands in his hair now. He reached back and pulled Brian’s head towards him and then the fire spread. It started low in the small of his back, spreading through his balls, up his belly across his cock, tightening his stomach and pressing at his heart and he let it consume him.

Justin exploded then. His body convulsing around Brian. His hands holding fistfuls of brown hair. His eyes closed, his mouth open. And then he collapsed into Brian’s embrace. Feeling Brian’s orgasm follow his he just allowed the waves of pleasure to wash over him. He allowed Brian's strong arms and capable hands hold them close. And then he was face down on the bed, Brian’s weight making him feel safe and protected. He sighed and fell back asleep. Brian still inside him. His hands slowly stroking his hair.

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~

Monday morning neither of them really spoke. It didn’t seem there was much left to say. 

They showed up at the right time and listened patiently while the told them both things they already knew about the procedure. Brian stayed while Justin changed into his hospital gown and they hooked up the IV. They signed forms and through all of it Brian never really seemed to let go of Justin’s hand.

They were finally alone for a few minutes. Aaron had stopped in to make sure they were okay and was waiting for Brian in the lounge. The nurses had all cleared out for the moment. It was just the two of them.

“This is it.”

Brian nodded.

“You okay?”

“Not me having this done.”

“I’m okay.”

“Okay.”

“You know I love you right?”

“Cut it out.”

“Brian.”

“No. No goodbyes. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

“But if you don’t…

Justin was staring at him and saw that there were tears in his eyes. He wanted to change the topic but he couldn’t. He had to say this. “Do me a favor?”

Brian nodded. 

“If I don’t. Seriously. If something goes wrong. I need you to do this again.”

“Do what?”

“This. Love. Let someone love you.”

“Fuck you.”

“I mean it Brian.”

“So do I. Fuck you.”

“But if I’m not here.”

“Then that’s it, but you keep talking like this and I’m calling the whole fucking thing off. I’ll see you in a couple of hours. You don’t believe that, they’re not even allowed to start.”

“I know. I’ll be fine. I know that. I just need to hear you promise.”

“Then we’re going home now.”

“Brian.”

  
”I’m not gonna start lying to you now. You want me to promise I’ll put myself through this again. Bullshit. Once. You. So I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

“Okay.”

“Justin.”

“Yeah?”

“I do love you. Can’t love anyone else. Don’t ask me to.”

“Okay.”

The nurses came in and were about to inject something into the IV. “Wait.”

They looked up at Brian. He leaned down and gently brushed his lips against Justin’s. “Couple of hours. Okay?”

“Later.”

Brian smiled a little. “Later.”

And then they gave Justin a shot to calm him. He could still talk, but was not completely responsive. They wheeled him away and Brian sat in the empty room for a while before he went out to join Aaron. By then he’d wiped the tears from his eyes. By then he’d steeled himself for the rest of the day. By then he was pretty sure that he wouldn’t breath again until he saw Justin’s eyes open.

He sat quietly next to Aaron who seemed to understand enough not to say a god damned thing.


	9. Chapter 9

  
Author's notes: comments here or at my LJ where i'm also Vamphile  


* * *

* * *

**Keeping It Together**

**Chapter Nine**

* * *

Brian remained unmoving for almost an hour. Aaron watched him, not sure what to say. He eventually decided that silence was the call of the day, or at least the moment.

He was worried about Justin but honestly, just as worried about Brian. He’d never seen him so… blank. He just sat. He didn’t look up at the television. He didn’t seem to notice when Aaron brought him a cup of coffee. He seemed unaware of his surroundings entirely. Wherever he was… it wasn’t here, in this hospital waiting room.

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

Brian knew he should probably say something to Aaron. Calm him, assure him, at least let him know that he hadn’t gone catatonic but he wasn’t so sure. He just… he couldn’t think. Every time he let his brain head towards the situation he found himself feeling like Billy Pilgrim in that Kurt Vonnegut Novel. He was unstuck in time. He was having sense-surround memories. He felt like he was _there_

The night under the streetlamp. Justin trying to play it cool… so obviously scared, still so fucking brave.

Justin smiling when he saw him show up at the prom. Justin smiling wider after their dance. Justin’s face before the bat made contact. 

Justin. A hundred huge memories, a million tiny ones that seemed more important. Justin naked and yelling at him about something completely pointless last month. Justin in sweatpants and no shirt, covered in hickeys yelling at him about something completely pointless last year. Justin drunk in his underwear, swearing he’d never draw again, yelling at him about having bought that fucking computer so many years ago. Justin. 

There were happy memories too, although the kid yelling could be entertaining at times. Justin leaning against him and eating cold Thai food with his fingers. Justin coming back to Pittsburgh unannounced on those rare occasions when the mood struck him and a plane was available. He’d showed up sometime a couple of years ago, pinned him to the bed, they’d fucked for hours and then he’d left. Flew in from New York for five hours total. Went back home and swore that it didn’t count as a visit…it was just really realistic phone sex. That’s what he’d said. It was one of Brian’s favorite memories.

But there were millions of those and there had better fucking be a million more.

So many firsts. Justin was right about that too. They’d both had a lot of firsts together. Love, breakups, fights, sex, freedom, intimacy. All of it. Pain, heartbreak, jealousy, misery. All of it. And all of it together. 

They’d been together forever now. Brian really couldn’t remember much about life before Justin. He remembered fighting it. Whatever that sinking overwhelming feeling was… he’d fought it hard. He’d pushed hard and sometimes it worked and the fucker left but he always came back, like an addict. Like a boomerang, like… whatever the fuck else always came back. He came back. 

They’d had so many stops and starts and false stops and false starts and this better be neither of those. This was just a glitch.

He was back in the loft now. A long fucking time ago. The place had been robbed and he was pissed. Pissed he didn’t get to fuck the trainer. Pissed his shoes and suits and fucking silverware were gone. And he’d been… well… he’d been unforgivably mean. He’d pushed the kid out the door he’d _thrown_ the kid out. And what had the brave idiot done? Stolen his fucking credit card. He’d had faith; even then, that Brian would come to his senses and bring him back.

Sometimes Brian thought about that night and wondered if he would have. Without Michael, without Daphne, without Debbie, all telling him it was his fault. But he knew something they didn’t. He would have. He wasn’t done with the kid yet. He wasn’t done being aggravated.

He still wasn’t done being aggravated. And NO, he wasn’t really still a kid but fuck that. He’d always be twelve years younger and he’d always be amused by how hard Brian perved on how young he looked. And Brian knew it was wrong to want him right now.

He should be worried about his health. They were in there fucking with the worlds most complicated, illogical, perfect brain and all he could think about was how much he wanted him. How much he just wanted to go in there, have them sow the kid up and take him home and fuck him better. It had worked before it could work now right?

He wasn’t sure. He was sure that he couldn’t just sit here for six hours. He chanced a look at the clock… forty-five minutes. That couldn’t be right. It had to have been longer than that. He tried not to think about how far they might have gotten. How deep into his brain they were. What they might find when they got there. He tried to think about something else. Anything else. He took a sip of the coffee sitting next to him but it was cold and bitter. Aaron took the cup from his hand.

“It’s old. I’ll get some fresh.”

Brian shook his head. Aaron shrugged and went anyway. Brian knew he probably needed something to do. He knew he should be doing something but there was nothing he could do. Nothing he wanted to do but see Justin look at him…with recognition.

He felt ice run down his spine.

Yeah, there was the fear. Justin could die. And that was a fear to big to contemplate. It’s like the concept of eternity, you can’t grasp it on matter what you do so don’t bother. This world without Justin in it…not comprehensible.

But they were fucking with his brain. The brain of the only person in the world who understood him. The only person in the world whose opinion mattered to him in the least. What if they fucked it up? What if he woke up and just had no idea who he was, or what they were?

And then there was this niggling doubt that Brian had hid from everyone…even himself until last night. What if he really did have brain damage? Not the kind they joked about. Not the kind that made your head hurt or your hand tremor… What if all of this, all the bullshit Justin was willing to put up with, all the insanity and agony he’d put the kid through… what if the only reason he kept coming back was because there was something fundamentally WRONG with him? If they fix it, If they make the kid whole… what if he doesn’t come back?

Brian stood up then and went outside for a cigarette. A few moments later he noticed Aaron standing next to him. “You shouldn’t smoke.”

“You practicing your Justin hypocrisy?”

“He’ll be back to serve up himself in no time.”

“I know.”

“Still, you’ll stunt your growth.”

“I’m twenty, I think I’m done growing.”

“Christ, you’re a midget just like your brother.”

“He’s not a midget and I’m two inches taller than him.”  
  


“You’re both shorter than Molly.”

“She just looks taller because she’s all skinny. Looks like someone stretched her out on a rack.”

Brian almost laughed and then felt guilty. Justin was in a room somewhere, awake, telling them… whatever so they could map out his damaged brain and he was laughing. He stopped.

“It’s okay. Justin would laugh too.”

“He can’t right now. He’s having brain surgery.”

Aaron flinched and Brian threw his cigarette but across the parking lot and lit another. “ _You_ really should quit.”  
  


“I can’t right now. Justin's having brain surgery.”

“He’s gonna be okay you know. He promised me.”

“He did?”

“Well he said he was.”

“But he didn’t promise.”

“I guess not.”

Brian nodded. “He’ll fight. He’s a fighter.”

“No shit. First time I met him he beat up three different people and a wall.”

“Three?”

“I think.”  
  


“Memory’s getting fuzzy there. Lay off the weed.”

“Um. Hypocrite?”  
  


“I can remember everyone Justin’s ever punched.”

“You can?”  
  


“No. Actually I have no idea how many people he beat up when he was in a gang.”

“That so doesn’t seem like him.”

“He had brain damage.”

“Brian. What are you gonna use as an excuse when they fix him?”

“That he’s recovering from brain damage.”

“Good call.”

Brian nodded and suddenly felt too tired to talk. He walked back inside slowly and sat again. Still. Silent. Blank. Aaron sighed and pulled out his PSP2 he turned down the volume and played a mindless game trying not to worry. It was hard when Brian was obviously pretty shaken by the whole thing.

Hours passed. Brian allowed himself to just flow with the memories. Amazingly pornographic memories, and a surprising number in which they were both fully clothed and barely touching. Justin cooking dinner one night and completely losing track of time. The smoke alarms in the loft going off. Justin cursing. Brian laughing. Justin cursing some more. They ordered from Sylvio’s for the first time that night. It became their favorite hoagie place. 

Then there was Brian’s bad attempt at highlights. His stylist had sworn they’d look hot. They looked ridiculous, but he couldn’t fix them for twenty-four hours and Justin had done a really admirable job of trying not to laugh…for the first seven minutes. The rest of the night was spent watching him crack up, pull it together and then end up in tears from laughing again. He’d hated Justin so much that night… and loved him more than he thought possible. And that was the thing that was killing him.

Did Justin know? He said he knew. He was pretty fucking sure of himself and of them sometimes but did he doubt it still? Brian knew he wasn’t exactly an open book, although Justin had figured out his code a long time ago but would it really kill him to say it more?

The answer was yes. He couldn’t. It wasn’t because he didn’t feel it. It was because he felt too much. He said it and he felt naked and raw, and exhilarated. He didn’t really want to lose that. He didn’t want it to become ordinary, or commonplace the way Michael and Ben ended every phone call and every conversation before they parted to run errands. Yeah, those two might have stability and this psuedo hetero life but fuck, they didn’t have what he and Justin had. No one did. But what if it was all about brain damage?

He was thinking in that circle again when his brain settled on Michael. His hands clenched and he considered again what he might do to the motherfucker.

He knew he should stop this line of thinking. He knew it wasn’t the time or the place to worry about Michael and his bullshit but he couldn’t bite back the anger right now. Everything was too raw. He let his mind go there. He’d been pushing the thoughts away for too long.

_Mel and Lindz had finally gone public about their breakup. Seemed Lindsay had found someone less angry, or more attractive or whatever and they’d gotten involved. It hadn’t been serious but it had been just one more thing to fuel Mel’s fire._

_Her decision to move to Canada had been hasty at best. Years of college. Years of law school. The bar. And all of it meant nothing in Toronto._

_Brian shook his head wondering what the fuck they’d been thinking in the first place._

_Michael had of course gone ballistic when he’d heard, threatening again to file suit for custody of JR. Gus was a mess. He was old enough now to know what was going on. He sort of remembered the move from Pittsburgh to Canada. The move from their home in Toronto to a tiny two-bedroom apartment had really shaken him. He’d called Brian a lot and Brian had tried to help him keep it all in perspective. Tried to help him to understand that it was better than hearing his mothers yell all the time but kids are not logical about shit like that. All he wanted was for things to be the way they were._

_Brian had done his best and then the weekend with Justin. They’d announced it at dinner the Sunday they decided. “We’re moving in together.” The room hadn’t even really taken a moment to absorb the information. They were met with shrugs and a few halfhearted congratulations. They’d been an established couple for so long at that point… no one was really surprised. 'Til Brian added the extra fun little fact. “In New York.”_

_That’s when jaws dropped and everyone started talking at once and Brian and Justin snuck out for a cigarette and a quickie. When they came back in everyone was yelling._

_Everyone but Michael who was whining. Fucking Michael._

_Two days later Lindsay called in a panic. Gus had disappeared._

_Brian tried to convince her he’d gone to find Melanie, or just played some dumb game of hide and seek but his stomach was in knots._

_He flew up to Toronto. Justin went back to New York and Gus was gone for three days, almost four. When they found him he was at a bus station in Calgary. He’d been trying to get to New York. It was hours before Brian was able to get the whole story out of him._

_Apparently Michael had called him. Told him all about daddy’s big New York adventure and telling him all about how busy Brian was going to be but not to worry, uncle Mikey would be there for him and how if he wanted he could come live with uncle Mikey and uncle Ben and maybe JR could live with them too. And Gus had panicked. He’d heard New York and Brian and headed off to find him._

_Brian’s fists balled again. Gus could have been killed. He could have been kidnapped. He could have been really hurt and all Michael wanted was for Gus to tell his father not to move. Michael had tried to manipulate his son to get him to stay and had ended up doing more damage._

_Brian had planned on going up to tell Gus himself. On bringing Gus to their new place as soon as they had it. Letting him pick out the stuff for his new room. Making sure he knew nothing had changed. Michael had fucked all that up. Telling Gus that since he’d be spending holidays in Pittsburgh with grandma Deb he’d probably not get to see daddy as much._

_Brian almost punched the wall as he stormed out for another cigarette and tried to figure out how Michael went from stupid and selfish to malicious and mean and why everyone insisted on fucking defending him._

_Gus hadn’t gotten over it for a long time. He still wasn’t completely over it because the last of the holidays were still spent in Pittsburgh. There was a question in his voice now when he talked to Brian about when they’d see each other. A question that was never there before._

_There was the same doubt about Brian’s ability to grow up and be the father he wanted that Michael had. And that’s what he couldn’t forgive him for._

_Yeah, Michael had gone to Justin. Told him a line of bullshit about Brian swearing this wasn’t what he wanted and that he was only doing it for Justin. Luckily Justin had brain damage and didn’t believe a fucking word of it. He’d laughed and listened and laughed again and then laughed harder at Michael’s face when he turned to find Brian standing behind him._

_“Didn’t know I was gonna be in town?”_

_“I was just talking to Justin about Rage.”_

_“And how you don’t want to live with me.” Justin added with a smirk._

_“Fuck. He told you that? I was waiting 'til we signed the mortgage to tell you to fuck off.”_

_Justin had laughed and kissed him and Brian had pushed Michael out the door without another word._

Justin had laughed and kissed him. Justin better be able to laugh and kiss him again or he was going to kill whatever doctor had fucked up. 

He got up and went for another cigarette. Gus’s toe was fine now. They’d thought it was permanent frostbite. They thought they might have to remove it but it was fine now. Justin’s brain on the other hand… he closed his eyes and let the image of Justin, angry, stupid, tweaked, laughing hysterically, crying, about to come, he let them all float in front of him. Every expression that had ever crossed that expressive face seemed to flit behind his eyelids and he tried not to cry. He tried. It didn’t work.

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  


It was only noon. Justin wouldn’t be done 'til three at least and Brian had already smoked at least a pack of cigarettes. He went from eerily calm to pacing like a caged animal. 

Aaron saw him fight back tears and disappeared around the corner of the building. Justin might be able to comfort him in a moment like that. Aaron couldn’t and he didn’t want Brian not to cry. Not if he needed to. When Justin was out. When Justin was awake Brian was gonna play strong and fine and if he needed to get this out now, Aaron would let him.

The wait seemed interminable. They were both edgy by two. Aaron was hungry. Brian couldn’t think about food. He couldn’t really think about anything. By three o’clock he was ready to explode. And then time seemed to stop. They’d said six hours. They’d said if it took longer it was because they’d found more damage or there had been a complication. It was three fifteen. Brian was pacing.

It was three thirty. Brian was still.

It was four o’clock Brian was stone faced and silent.

At four thirty a doctor came looking for them. Brian was standing in front of him, towering over him, glaring, daring him to say anything negative.

“Mr. Kinney?”

“Yeah.”

“Mr. Taylor is out of surgery. He’s in recovery.”

“He’s okay?”

“He’s… he’ll be…”

“What the fuck went wrong.”

“Nothing. The scarring was extensive. We knew that when we went in. There was some difficulty with his breathing so we’ve had to keep him on a ventilator but we should be able to take him off of it within the next twenty four hours.”

“Difficulty with his breathing?”

“It’s to be expected with surgery lasting this long. The anesthesia can have this effect. He was awake during most of the surgery. He’s asleep now. We won’t expect him to awake again 'til morning.”

“I want to see him.”

“He’ll be moved to the ICU in a couple of hours at which point he’ll be allowed visitors. But…”

“What?”

“He won’t be awake.”

“I want to see him.”

“We’ll call you.”

“Now.”

“Sir, I understand that you’re concerned but…”

“Now.”

Aaron put a hand on his arm. “Brian, you can’t scare the hospital into breaking like thirty major rules. Cut it out.”

Brian sagged. “How long?”

“He’ll be able to receive family members by seven.”

Brian nodded. 

“Family members only I’m afraid.”

“I’m his partner. This is his brother.” Brian challenged. The doctor nodded and made a note somewhere on his clipboard. 

“The surgery was a success we think. We’ll know more when he’s alert and can respond to directions.”

Brian said nothing. Justin was still alive. He breathed shallowly. He needed to fucking see the kid.

When they finally did let him in Aaron hung back and Brian walked slowly into the room. The ventilator hissed each time Justin’s chest rose. He took Justin’s hand and just stared at him.

Bandage around his head. IV tube still dripping something. Tube down his throat, but fuck, the kid had no gag reflex, unless they gave him one back. Brian laughed to himself and Aaron shook his head. Brian glared and sat down next to Justin holding his hand. He didn’t move again.

He fell asleep somewhere after nine. Something woke him at ten.

“Justin?”

“I’m sorry sir, visiting hours are over.”

“Not fucking moving.”

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave please.”

“Not leaving.”

The nurse was about to call security when Justin’s eyes fluttered. Brian squeezed his hand. “Hey.”

Justin tried to talk but the tube was still down his throat. “Good thing you still have no gag reflex huh?”

Justin coughed out a small laugh and his eyes opened a little wider and Brian breathed. For the first time since they’d wheeled him out he breathed. “They’re kicking me out. I’ll be back in a few hours. Sleep.”

Justin nodded. 

“You hurt?”

Justin nodded. Brian hit the nurse call button and was greeted by the woman in bright pink scrubs and two security guards. 

“I’m leaving. He’s in pain. Fix that.”

The nurse nodded and Brian brushed by the uniformed men. “Aaron. Let’s go. We’ll come back in the morning.”

“But…”

“I know but visiting hours are over.”

“Is he gonna be okay?”

Brian shrugged. “He’s getting hospital grade heroin at the moment. Even if he’s not… he won’t care.”

Aaron nodded and they went back to Brian and Justin’s place where Aaron showed Brian how to get the hidden weapon in MechAssault seven and Brian pretended to care.

Brian practically dragged Aaron out the door at seven thirty the next morning. Visiting hours started at eight and they were early but the nurses let them go. Justin had been moved to a private room. He was still asleep. “I’m gonna get some coffee.” 

Brian nodded to Aaron and sat next to Justin again, facing him. Holding his hand and wishing the kid would open his eyes. He’d slept for a couple of fitful hours the previous night and every time he’d dreamt Justin had opened his eyes something had been wrong. He’d open them and they’d be brown, or white, or red, or something other than that blue that he needed to see.

As if he willed it Justin’s eyelids fluttered. The ventilator had been removed sometime in the night but Justin’s voice was still raspy.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Brian fought back a catch in his throat. “Water?”

Justin nodded and Brian did the obligatory offering of the bendy strawed cup. Justin drank a little. Coughed and winced. “Need something for that?”

“I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

“No. But…”

“What?”

“Not dead.”

“Good. Hate to have to go out and find a replacement model.”

Justin smiled. “Don’t.”

“What?”

“Pretend you didn’t say it. I heard it.”

“Nope. You’re imaging things because you have brain damage.”

“Pfft.”

“That’s it…I’m suing. They were supposed to totally remove that.”

Justin winced. 

“You need something.”

Justin shook his head. “After the doctor.”

“When’s he coming by?”

Justin shrugged. Brian stood up. “This is bullshit. You’re not sitting here in pain while we wait for some asshole with a god complex to…”

“Brian.” It was quiet. Gravelly. Brian stopped. 

“What?”

“Need to be awake. Needs to test function.”

“Oh.”

Brian sat back down. “How’s your head?”

“Brain damage.” Justin whispered.

“No more talking okay?”

Justin nodded.

“I think I came up with three new ways to kill Michael and they’re all really painful. Wanna hear?”

Justin shook his head.

“Aaron gave me the full scoop on him and Lee last night. Did you know they’re going away on spring break together?”

Justin nodded. 

“You should have told me.”

“Brain dam…”

“Shhhh. No talking.” Brian wanted to ask if Justin could move his hands, his legs, his feet, anything other than his head but he was actually afraid to. He squeezed Justin’s hand. Justin didn’t squeeze back. He got more worried but when he looked up he realized Justin was asleep.

He sat then. Sat and waited like he had yesterday except this time he’d seen Justin’s eyes. This time he could breathe.

Almost an hour later the doctor came in. Brian stood by Justin’s head; his hand resting on his shoulder and held his breath again while the doctor asked Justin to follow a few simple commands.

Justin wiggled his left toes.

He bent his left knee.

He squeezed the doctor’s hand with his left hand.

Justin wiggled his right toes and Brian exhaled a little.

He bent his right knee and Brian wanted to scream in victory. 

He gripped the doctor’s hand with his right and Brian saw the doctor frown. He saw Justin concentrate harder. 

“What’s wrong?”

The doctor stuck a needle into Justin’s thumb. Justin didn’t flinch. 

He ran a spiked wheel over Justin’s arm. It didn’t move.

He took something that looked like a wet eraser and traced up Justin’s forearm. The thing beeped and hummed.

“Well?” Justin croaked.

The doctor nodded. “The nerve endings are all intact. They’re all receiving signals. Or are capable of doing so. It’s just going to take a little work to get them all firing at the same time. It seems that you haven’t lost any functioning of other extremities however so the prognosis is good.”

Justin smiled and Brian leaned down to kiss him. “Told you.”

“You did not,” Justin whispered into his mouth.

Brian stood up. “So when can we get out of here?”

“We’d like to keep him for at least three more days. We’d like to get a baseline of his abilities and work out a physical therapy schedule from there. You can go home Friday Justin.”

Justin smiled. He turned his head to see Brian and winced a little. “Can you get him some goddamned pain meds now?”

The doctor left. “I’ll leave an order with the nurse.”

“Laptop.”

“Not today.”

“Need to…”

“Rest and let your brain undamage? I agree.”

“Asshole.”

“Okay.”

“Friday, I’m kicking your ass.”

Brian leaned in and kissed him. “Friday I’m fucking yours.”

“Mmmmmm.”


	10. Chapter 10

  
Author's notes: Comments and Reviews... Here or at my LJ when i'm Vamphile  


* * *

* * *

**Keeping It Together**

**Chapter Nine**

* * *

On Wednesday Brian returned to the office. His desk was covered with messages. Calls to return, papers to sign. New boards to approve, or tear to shreds. He tried to concentrate. His head was in the hospital with Justin. 

He’d seen him that morning before coming in. He’d looked better. He was walking. He was eating solid food, (such as it is in the hospital). He was actually looking forward to getting started with the physical therapy. He could bend a couple of fingers on his right hand. His thumb and index finger were not responding. His shoulder was fine. His forearm was absolutely not cooperating. They both pretended this was no big deal. This was a big deal. But it was only two days after surgery. There were no more tremors. Time would tell about the headaches.

Cynthia was standing in front of him tapping a pen against the contract she was holding and looking aggravated. He looked up. “What?”

“Go back to the hospital. You’re useless here.”

“I’m here. What do you need?”

She shot a meaningful look towards all of the paper sprawled across his desk. “Answers. Directions, approvals, boss shit.”

“Yeah. Okay. Give me a half hour I’ll plow through this.”

“Call him first.”

Brian glared at her.

“You’re not here. Call him. Make sure he’s okay. Then be here if you’re gonna be here.”

Brian nodded and called Justin’s cell. 

“Hey.”

“You’re out of breath.”

“Walking takes a lot out of me today.”

“Brain damage.”

“Something like that. They’re gonna yell at me for using this phone.”

“You begged for your phone back.”

“And you brought it.”

“I’m a sucker when you beg.”

“You’re just a sucker.”

“Fuck off.”

“Brian I’m fine.”

“I know. Cyn said I had to call you.”

“Why?”

“No clue. I think she’s worried.”

“Pfft.”

“Seriously suing them.”

“Pfft.”

“Seriously not bringing you home.”

“Not your call. I own half the place.”

“The bank owns the whole thing. You just have to pay the bank for half of it.”

“Whatever.”

“You’re really okay right?”

“You have to stop asking that.”

“I’ll be there after work.”

“Okay.”

“Is Aaron there now?”

“He had a class he couldn’t miss.”

“Really?”

“He can’t use ‘my brother had brain surgery’ as an excuse with Becca.”

“Good point.”

“I have to call my mom.”

“I’ll call her.”

“I have to do this.”

“When?”

“I wanted to wait 'til I was home.”

“Then stop saying Pfft. That’ll get you home faster.”

“Pfft.”

“See, that’s another hour before you’re home.”

“If I call her now she’ll come see me in the hospital. At least I’m out of that fucking hospital gown.”

“Yeah, the nurses are gonna miss you flashing your ass.”

“I can function better in sweats. Thanks.”

“No problem. When’s PT start?”

“At eleven. The same time it started when you asked three times this morning.”

“Making sure they hadn’t changed it.”

“I’ve done this before. Throwing a tennis ball. Picking up little pieces of nothing. Retraining. We knew this was part of it.”

“I guess.”

“Did you really think I was just gonna wake up better?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not stupid Justin.”

“Never said you were. You were… optimistic.”

“Hardly.”

“Pfft.”

“And another hour.”

“Brian. Go to work.”

“Going. Be there by seven.”

“K”

“Bye.”

Brian smiled and focused on the task at hand, clearing his desk so he could get out of the office to see Justin.

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~*

Justin hung up the phone and put the lifekeeper on the table. He hated that he had to do this one handed. He read his emails. Brian had refused to bring him his laptop, although he promised to bring it tomorrow. So in the meantime he was struggling with the stupid tiny keyboard and trying to respond to a couple of client concerns while he tried to decide how he was going to break this to his mother and what he was going to tell his friends.

He was concentrating on finishing the email when the nurse came to wheel him to Physical Therapy.

“I can walk.”

She nodded. “I have to wheel you anyway.”

“I need to walk.”

“But you can’t hold the walker so for today, it’s the chair.”

“Grrr.” She smiled at him. 

“It’s not so bad. I’ve been on my feet all day.”

“So I’ll wheel you.”

“And how do I explain it when the brain surgery patient falls over on top of me while I’m in a chair?”

“Lie?”

“Sorry dear. Get in.”

Justin grumbled but sat down. “This is stupid.”

The nurse said nothing as she wheeled him to the physical therapy room.

The therapist was an annoyingly chipper blonde woman with huge teeth. Justin thought she was probably from the Midwest based on her nasal accent. 

He followed her directions and tried to do what she asked but his hand just wasn’t cooperating. He got frustrated. He was cursing when the therapist laughed. “It’s been a good day. Take your time.”

“I don’t have a lot of time.”

“Why not?”

“I need to be better by Friday.”

“Friday? Let’s set some more realistic goals.”

“Friday afternoon.”

She laughed again. Forty-five minutes later he was being wheeled back to his room with a stress ball to grip. It didn’t help. He was still stressed and his thumb still wouldn’t bend at all.

He spent the most of the afternoon bored. Aaron came to see him after his last class. 

“School sucks.”

“Quit.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that, right after Brian kills me.”

“Don’t go to school for him.”

“I’m not. I’m going for me.”

“Then why are you majoring in marketing?”

“I’m not. I changed my major to Poli-sci.”

“When?”

“Last week.”

“Why?”

Aaron shrugged. “Seems interesting. Here. I brought you a burger.”

“Thank fucking god. The food here sucks.”

“So do your table manners.”

“I don’t have a thumb at the moment. Fuck you.”

“When will you have a thumb?”

“I need one by Friday night. Saturday morning at the latest.”

“Why?”

“My mother’s coming.”

“She is?”

“Well she doesn’t know it yet but yeah. I have to tell her about this.”

“Oh man. My mother would _freak_ if I had brain surgery and didn’t tell her.”

“You’ve met my mother.”

“Oh man. You’re mother’s gonna _freak_ really quietly when she finds out about this.”

“And Deb’s gonna freak really loudly.”

“You should bring her here too. She’ll keep your mother from bugging you too much.”

“No. She’ll sic her on me.”

“I think your mother might sic Deb on you.”

“I’m so fucked.”

“You so are.”

“But if I’d told them ahead of time.”

“No. I get that. When are you telling Matt and Becca?”

“So you already told Lee?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you did.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“But you went to him for comfort and…”

“Heat of the moment?”

“You talk about me in the heat of the moment. That’s just gross.”

“Not _that_ kind of moment.”

“What kind then?”

“Nothing.”

“You were upset.”

“You had brain damage.”

“Still do.” Justin said, gesturing towards his right arm, which was still immobile.

“Oh yeah.”

“But I’m gonna be fine.”

“How do you know?”

Justin smiled. “It itches.”

“What?”

“My arm itches. And when I scratch it, I can feel it. That’s a really good sign.”

“That’s twisted.”

“There’s something about me that isn’t?”

“Apparently not.”

“So what did Lee say?”

“Something like ‘holy shit.’”

“Profound. I’m sure he’s told Matt and Becca.”

“I swore him to silence.”

“I’m sure that worked.” Justin rolled his eyes and tried not to be too aggravated that he couldn’t eat his fries with his right hand.

“It did. He wouldn’t tell Matt or Becca.”

“Tell us what?” Matt asked as he walked into the room. Justin frowned at him and at Becca who was standing behind him. 

“I’m going to kill Lee. After I kill _him_.” Justin gestured towards Aaron with a French fry.”

“Well I’m giving him an A. And you fail.” Justin looked at Becca. 

“Brain surgery, and you don’t bother to tell me. And you.” She turned her attention to Aaron. “You come to class today and leave your brother alone in the hospital just to cover for him?”

“Am I really getting an A?”

Becca laughed. “If you pass the final. Justin, you should have told us.”

“Whatever. Now you know. Come to gawk at the gimp?”

“No. We came to say hi. And that hospitals suck. And that you’re an asshole for not telling us. And to steal your French fries.” Matt said as he sat on the edge of Justin’s bed and leaned back, taking a French fry with him.

“Get off. The food in this place sucks.”

“Matt smiled and leaned back again. But you get the good drugs.”

“Pfft. I could get those from you.”

“Justin. You’re alright though?”

Justin looked at Becca. She was genuinely concerned. “Yeah, I’m fine. Minor glitch. Mostly fixed. Except…”

“Except?”

“I um… haven’t told my mother.”

“Justin!”

“Shut up. I meant to tell her. I really did.”

“No you didn’t”, Aaron piped up.

Justin laughed, “No, I actually didn’t. But it happened kind of fast. I mean, I had a headache…”

“You got headaches all the time.”

“I had one in front of Brian.”

Matt nodded. “Gotcha.”

“So yeah, headache, Brian freaking out, loss of hand function, doctor, options, surgery… all in a couple of weeks.”

“Didn’t you go home last weekend?”

Justin nodded towards Becca. 

“So you didn’t see your mother?”

Justin sighed. “I saw her… I just… didn’t tell her.”

“You’re the biggest coward I know.”

“You’ve never seen her after a crisis. She’s… she’s not good at shit like this.”

“Who is?” Matt asked stealing another fry.

“Brian.”

“What am I good at?” Brian asked.

“What are you doing here?” 

Brian shot Justin a look. “I thought you might be bored. But you’ve got your own little entertainment crew.”

“Aaron told Lee. Lee told…” Justin turned his head between Matt and Becca silently asking one of them to ‘fess up. Becca lifted her arm a little and wiggled her fingers. Justin nodded.

“Lee told Becca. Becca told Matt and ta da… my own little traveling band of gawkers.”

Brian sat on the chair next to Justin's bed and took his right hand massaging his fingers in a way he hadn’t really done in a long time. “How’d therapy go?”

“Pointless. I’m not gonna be better by Friday.”

Brian raised an eyebrow and Justin shrugged. “Wanted to be better before telling your mother in law.”

“Fuck. She’s coming Friday?”

“Saturday. I um…don’t get mad.”

“What’d you do?”

“Made Cynthia book the ticket and hotel room. I was gonna but _someone_ refused to let me have my laptop.”

Brian sighed. “Okay. Saturday.”

“Why are you here so early?”

“Work was boring.”

Justin laughed and Matt stood up. Brian turned his chair to face everyone and they all managed to keep Justin from screaming his frustration across the hospital wing, but barely.

Aaron left first. He had homework to do. Matt and Becca left a few minutes later both promising to come back the next day. Brian moved closer until Justin patted the bed with his left hand. “C’mere.”

They moved a little each making sure they weren’t pushing the other off the bed. “Your suit’s gonna get wrinkled.”

“I’ll live.”

“I missed you.”

“When?”

“Um… today.”

“I was gone for like four hours.”

“That’s an eternity when you can’t jerk off.”

“You’re ambidextrous about shit like that.”

“But they come in every half hour for more blood or something.”

As if to prove a point the nurse came in then and took Justin’s temperature. “Sheeee wha a meag” Justin said around the thermometer.

“Yeah it’s a real hardship to have people waiting on you hand and foot.”

“Shu uu” 

Brian laughed again. “Shhhh. Let the nice lady finish.” 

The nurse smiled at them both and checked Justin’s IV. When she was gone Justin sighed and then cursed.

“What?”

“Nothing. My hairs in my eyes and you’re on my left arm and I can’t move my right one yet.”

Brian stroked the hair off of Justin’s face, being careful not to disturb the bandage covering the stitches. “How’s the arm feel?”

“Itches.”

“That’s good.”

“I know…but they get mad if I scratch.”

“Because it itches at the nerve endings. If you scratch that deep they’ll have to do more surgery.”

“How much reading on this did you do?”

Brian smiled. “ _a lot_.”

“Fuck. You sure you’re not mad about my mom coming.”

“Yeah. You gonna do a whole brunch thing and try to blow it off or are you gonna let her react?”

“I was thinking brunch and a waspish refusal to admit it’s a big deal.”

“That’ll work.”

“It might.”

“‘Til she has a third gin and tonic.”

“My mother is not a lush.”

“No. She’s a mother. She’s gonna be upset you didn’t tell her.” Brian brushed his fingers through Justin’s hair again. “Then again. Maybe she’ll just be glad I handled it.”

Justin laughed then. “Yeah. Let’s pretend that’s how it’ll go down. Denial’s fun.”

“Can be.”

“Have I mentioned that this sucks?”

“Not today.”

“Well then I’d like to officially state it for the record. This royally sucks.”

“But in two days, you’ll be home.”

“Then it can royally suck at home. At least I’ll have my laptop. I have to call Martin tomorrow too.”

“Why?”

“Without clients for the next month I’ve got some financial maneuvering to do.”

“No you don’t.”

“Brain damage boy doesn’t have to pay the mortgage?”

“I’ve got it Justin.”

“No fucking way.”

“You’ll be working again soon.”

“We don’t know that.”

“I do. I bought you something.”

“What?” Justin’s eyes were narrowed. “We agreed NO remodeling of the place. I’ll work around whatever’s annoying.”

“No shit. You work around me. You’re an expert at shit like that.”

“So what’d you buy?”

“Just a new mouse. Made to help you 'til you could be more precise.”

“What?”

“So you can work.”

“Where’d you find it?”

“Online.”

“When?”

“Last week.”

“What’s the site name?”

Brian shrugged. 

“Brian.”

“I don’t remember the web address.”

“What’s the name of the place?”

“Why, you gonna return it?”

“Maybe. What’s the name of the place?”

“Carter Rehabilitation tools. Happy?”

“NO! You promised.”

“I said no rails in the shower if you didn’t need them. I said we didn’t have to make the place wheelchair accessible. I didn’t say I wouldn’t buy you a new mouse if that’s what it took for a while 'til you had your precision back.”

“How much did it cost?”

“Less than two hundred dollars. You have to accept it.”

“I do not. You just didn’t have to ask. You still suck.”

“I know.”

“In a bad way.”

“I know you think that. But that’s because you’re recovering from brain damage.”

“I hate you. I really really just hate you.”

Brian kissed the top of his head. “That’s okay. Sometimes I hate you too.”

Justin shook his head. “And you say I’m the one who breaks the rules.”

“You are.”

“Oh yeah.”

“So really, you suck more than I do.”

“I do. You totally owe me a blowjob.”

“Right now?”

“No. Right now you totally owe me five minutes of not stopping me while I scratch my arm.”

“I’ll give you the blowjob. You’re not peeling the skin off your arm.”

“Fuck it then.”

“That’s an option? If I had known that was an option…”

“Brian. Shut up. I’m sitting in the hospital watching bad television. You couldn’t make this more annoying if you tried.”

“Probably could.”

“Don’t try.”

“Okay.”

“Go home.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I love this show.”

“Full house?”

“Yeah, what’s his name’s hot.”

“There are NO hot guys on this show.”

Brian nodded. He really had to agree but he wasn’t leaving yet. Justin didn’t ask him again and they spent the night bickering about whatever was on television, and why Brian still refused to bring him his laptop. When visiting hours were over Brian left quietly. Justin was already asleep. They shot something into his IV. The nurse turned to look at Brian. “He’ll be up by seven tomorrow.”

He nodded, took his jacket and headed home.

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

Brian hailed a cab and hoped Aaron wouldn’t be there when he got home. He knew it was probably pointless. Aaron would be there. He’d promised Justin, and hell, their place was nicer than a dorm any day. His phone rang. He cursed to himself but answered it.

“Kinney.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know who this is.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you’d like to pretend you’re too busy at ten o’clock at night to talk to me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because something’s wrong and you don’t want to tell me.”

“Now mother Taylor. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Don’t bullshit me Brian.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why the tickets? Why the hotel? Why exactly am I coming to New York this weekend?”

“We wanted you to see the new place.”

“Brian.”

“Justin misses his mommy.”

“Brian.” She was not amused.

“It’s all fine. I’ll see you Saturday”

“What’s wrong with Justin?”

“Nothing.”

“Put him on.”

“He’s not here.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s staying somewhere else at the moment.” Not a lie.

“Did you two…”

“No. We’re fine.”

“So why won’t he answer his phone?”

“Maybe he’s asleep.”

“At ten?”

“Maybe he has a headache.”

“Brian what aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing that you won’t find out about on Saturday.”

“So there is something.” Fuck. He sucked at lying to Jennifer.

“No. There’s nothing.”

“Is Justin alright?”

“Yes.”

“What if I can’t make it on Saturday?”

“Then next week.”

“Fine. Next week.”

“You really can’t make it?”

He heard her sigh. “I’ll be there. If there’s something wrong, I’m going to assume it’s your fault.”

“Hardly news.”

“Goodbye Brian.”

Brian put his phone back in his pocket and tried to breathe. Fuck. Jennifer was gonna be pissed. He’d tried not to lie. He went back over the conversation trying to figure out if he’d lied. He didn’t think so. Not technically. 

His thoughts went back to Justin. He was doing okay. At least he seemed to be but then again Justin and patience were not often uttered in the same breath. If he really hadn’t made any progress over the next couple of weeks he was gonna be tough to deal with. And even if he did make progress the odds of it being fast enough for Justin’s schedule were slim.

At least he could still talk. At least he still seemed to like him. At least he could move. And his arm itched. That was a good sign as long as the kid didn’t rip through his skin trying to scratch it.

He marveled again at how strong Justin could be sometimes. And at the stubbornness that went side by side with that strength. He should be relieved. The worst was over. He wasn’t relieved. He was still worried. Justin seemed to think it was ALL over. There was no way that he’d be back to working his usual schedule by next month.

Brian got out of the elevator and heard the music through the door. Fuck. Aaron was there. He straightened his shoulders a little and braced himself for another evening of pretending it was all just fine.

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~*

Aaron heard the door open and turned down the music.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Justin asleep?”

“Last I checked.”

“Let’s go out.”

Brian looked at him as if he might be insane. “No.”

“We could just get a drink or something.”

“I have plenty to drink right here.” Brian emphasized the point by pouring himself a double.

“But there are um… people out.”

“If you want to go get laid… go get laid.”

“Don’t you want to?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Why not?”

Brian considered screaming. He considered telling the kid the truth. Neither seemed a good option. “Long week. Tired.”

“Then let me rip your spine out in Ultimate Fight Night 3”

“Sure.”

They got slowly stoned and Brian ripped Aaron's spine out almost as many times as Aaron got Brian’s.

“Shouldn’t you head home?”

“No classes tomorrow.”

“No classes on Thursday?”

“Nope, scheduled all my classes Monday Wednesday and Friday.”

“Yeah, I did that for a semester. Sucked. No good long weekend time.”

“Next semester I’m shooting for just Tuesday and Thursday.”

Brian shook his head. “That doesn’t work. You lose your momentum.”

“But four day weekends. “You end up putting everything off and nothing ever gets done.”

“So you tried it?”

“Second semester freshman year.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“Fuck. You.”

“I’m just saying that you finished college fast.”

“Three years. And then a year getting my MBA.”

“That’s fast.”

“I’m a quick study.”

“I used to be. Becca’s class is hard.”

“She’ll pass you. She’s Justin’s fag.”

“Are you guys still going to England?”

“Probably not.”

“Why not. Justin can travel right?”

“He won’t want to see Daphne if his hand isn’t fully functional.”

“You don’t think it will be by then.”

“The plan was to leave in three weeks. No. I don’t think he’s gonna be better in three weeks.”

“He does.”

“I know.”

“Are you gonna tell him?”

“No. Are you?”

“Fuck no. He doesn’t listen to me anyway. Thinks I’m still a stupid kid.”

Brian was leaning back against the arm of the sofa. He looked up. “You are still a stupid kid.”

“But I know he’s not gonna be using his hand in three weeks.”

“Let him think he will for a while. He’s gonna work hard. I’ll make sure he doesn’t hurt himself.”

“How are you gonna do that?”

Brian was silent. He had no fucking clue how to make sure Justin didn’t hurt himself. He had never been able to keep Justin from getting hurt. He shook his head. “Sleep here, you’re too stoned to go home.”

“You’re too stoned to put me in a cab.”

Brian shrugged. “Same thing. Sleep in Gus’s room and don’t fuck it up. He hasn’t seen it yet.”

“I’m hungry.”

“Eat something.”

Aaron sighed. Can’t we order pizza?”

“It’s midnight.”

“There are places that deliver.”

“I don’t eat after midnight.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Order what you want.” Brian dropped a twenty on Aaron’s chest. “I’m going to bed.”

“G’night.”

Brian tried but he couldn’t sleep. He wasn’t too worried about Jennifer’s impending visit. She’d cry. She’d worry. She’d upset the hell out of Justin and then she’d leave and they’d be alone again. He was worried about Justin. 

Aaron was right. Justin really thought he’d be fine in three weeks. It took him six weeks to be a gimp last time and he’d been younger and more resilient then. He’d also had a very specific goal then. Brian considered for a moment giving him the same incentive but that would involve disappearing from the kid’s life. Not an option. He needed to find something else for Justin to work for. Except that wasn’t really the problem. The kid was probably gonna work too hard already.

So what the fuck did he do? The answer kept coming back the same every time he let himself question this. He did nothing. He let Justin work and made him take a break when he needed to. The problem with that was very simple. Nothing was Brian’s least favorite thing to do when it came to helping those he loved. Fuck. This _did_ royally suck.

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~***~***~**

The next day went pretty much like the previous one except that the nurse let Justin walk halfway to rehab by himself. When Becca and Matt left Brian moved onto the bed next to Justin. 

“You okay?”

“I’m counting how many times you tell me that. And that’s how many times I’m NOT blowing you when we get home.”

“You’re crying.”

“Am not.”

“Okay.”

“Tired.”

“Well they didn’t say to do three hours of therapy after the session, that was your idea.”

“Need to get better.”

“You will.”

“Can’t move my thumb. I hold a fork like Michael.”

“Stop it.”

“Being mean to Michael?”

“Being mean to yourself. Michael can fuck himself.”

“You really have to…”

“I’m counting. Every time you tell me to get over this. That’s one more time I’m not going to fuck you.”

“Pfft.”

“Another hour before you come home.”

“Brian stop. You have to talk to Michael. Even if you never forgive him, you can’t just shut him out of your life without speaking again.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s practically your brother.”

“And I talk so much to my family.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, but this is different.”

“Why?”

“Because he tried to fuck with you. He told you I didn’t want this.”

“Yeah, and it came so close to working.”

“Only because you have brain damage.”

“Only because he thinks he can fuck with me. He thinks you’d tell him stuff you wouldn’t tell me.”

Brian was silent.

“Do you tell him stuff you won’t tell me?”

“No.”

“So what the fuck?”

“He fucked with Gus.”

“But Gus is okay now.”

“And if he weren’t I’d be allowed to hate him still right?”

“I guess.”

“It’s just dumb luck that Gus is okay.”

“No. It’s ‘cause he has parents who love him.”

“And an uncle who doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself.”

“What if he meant what he said?”

“Huh?”

“What if he really believed that you would have less time for Gus and he was trying to give him a safe place… a feeling that he still had a home.”

“He’s my kid. He’ll always have a home with me.”

“I know that.”

“Why doesn’t Michael?”

Justin leaned his head against Brian’s shoulder. “Because he’s got brain damage?”

“That’s you.”

“Oh yeah, I guess I forgot.”

“Because you have brain damage.”

Justin fell asleep with his head on Brian’s chest and by the time Brian extricated himself and left it was after eleven.

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

Brian had taken off on Friday to bring Justin home. Justin insisted on getting in one last PT session before he left. By the time the papers were signed and they’d gotten in a cab it was almost three in the afternoon. 

“My mother’s coming tomorrow morning.”

“I know.”

“Just reminding you.”

“I’m not the one with brain damage.”

“I’m not sure she’s gonna find your incessant mocking endearing.”

“She might.”

“We’ll see.”

Brian dropped Justin’s bag by the laundry room. “Everything smells like the hospital.”

“Including me. I’m taking a bath.”

“Want company?”

“Not 'til I don’t smell like antiseptic and pine-sol.”

Brian nodded. He understood Justin needed a little time to re-acclimate himself to being home, and damaged.

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

Justin filled the tub and shut the door. They really never shut the door but he just needed a few moments. He wanted to shower but it’s amazing how much you count on your arm. He’d almost fallen twice in the hospital. His legs were fine but he’d moved his arm for balance except his arm hadn’t gotten the signal and he ended up leaning against a wall. He was pissed at himself. Angry with his body, and scared. He shouldn’t be scared. He couldn’t be scared. Brian needed him to be strong.

Brian was trying really hard to stay strong but Justin knew he was gonna break soon. Aaron had tried to lure him out. It hadn’t worked. It had already started… the hovering thing Justin knew was gonna happen.

He had needed it years ago… when he was scared and angry… but he was scared of something else then. Now he needed Brian to be Brian. He needed things to be normal… and Brian hovering was not exactly normal. He carefully lowered himself into the tub, putting all his weight on his left arm and cursing his stupid body once again. Then he got angrier. It wasn’t just his body he was angry with. But he had to push those thoughts away. Hating Chris Hobbes had never been productive.

He sat for a moment and then started scrubbing at himself furiously. He hated the smell of hospitals. Hated the way you were at the mercy of so many people and so many fucking rules when you were stuck there. It had only been five days. The first one he couldn’t even remember but he remembered six weeks. He remembered before going under that he might be in there for six weeks again. He scrubbed harder. 

When he finally drained the tub and got out his skin was raw and he felt a little better. He smelled like himself again… well, like his body wash, and his shampoo and his conditioner and generally… like a human and not a patient. 

He stood staring in the mirror when Brian knocked and pushed the door open. 

“You okay?”

“One less blowjob.”

“Fuck.”

“Maybe later.”

“It’s still you.” Brian said, meeting Justin’s eyes in the mirror.

“It feels like me. It looks like me.”

“But…”

“Nothing. It’s me. Just me broken.”

“Not broken. Bent a little maybe, but then we’ve always known you were twisted.”

“My mother’s gonna freak.”

“Yeah. No way around that.”

“Can you do something for me?”

“Depends.”

“Can we just…”

“you sure?’

“Can you just stop acting like I’m gonna break. It’s just my arm. I can fuck without an arm.”

“I’ve always said you could do it with one hand tied behind your back… or both. That’s even more fun.”

Justin smiled. “Think of it this way, it’s like having me all tied up, only without all that cumbersome, time consuming foreplay.”

“Really?” Brian’s eyebrow went up. “So you’re at my mercy.”

“Even when both hands are working.”

Brian's pulled the towel from Justin’s waist. “At my mercy huh?”

“Which is ironic since you’re merciless.”

“Hmmmm.” Brian's hands were working down Justin's chest and he watched in the mirror as Justin’s skin turned a more even shade of pink. He noticed in passing that generally he looked a little raw but let it go. Hospital smell really was NOT an aphrodisiac. The smell of Justin now. Fruity, that weird kiwi body wash he used. And musky, just him, the scent of Justin’s desire. That was the only aphrodisiac Brian needed. 

There were nights, days after Justin had departed back to New York when Brian would catch a whiff of him from the pillow on Justin’s side of the bed. He’d get hard then, Justin that faint fragrance. And now he was here, in his arms. Wanting him and Brian wasn’t sure he’d ever wanted him more.

His fingers were slow and gentle as he entered him, preparing him carefully and Justin was leaning against the counter, his forehead almost pressed into the mirror. “Brian.” The mirror fogged as Justin breathed out his name.

Justin leaned his head back as Brian's hips snapped against him and he was filled. He gasped and tried to push back but his arm gave out. He almost fell. Brian’s arm around his waist pulled him back before his chin his faucet. 

“You’re a little tied up right now. Let me drive.”

Justin tried to smile. He tried to be frustrated. He tried to feel something other than overwhelming desire. It was futile. Desire was all that was left at the moment.

Brian’s hand was splayed flat against his chest. His strong forearm trapping Justin’s to his side, he couldn’t move it even if he _could_ move it. Justin tilted his head back again and panted out Brian’s name. Brian didn’t stop his slow strokes pulling out until the wide head of his cock was stretching him open and then sliding back in, slow, smooth, perfect.

He kissed Justin’s neck, his shoulder, his ear. He whispered words of pornographic desire and want. Justin felt his orgasm build and he wanted to cry. _NOT YET_ he thought to himself. He wasn’t ready yet, he wanted the moment to last longer. He wanted more. Brian seemed to understand. He slowed down, brought them both back from the brink and pulled out completely, kissing Justin deeply. 

Justin felt Brian slide between him and the vanity and then allowed himself to be walked backwards towards the bed. He let himself drop back unceremoniously and Brian was on top of him. Their bodies were together, hot flesh against hot flesh. Their breathing was timed to one another’s their hearts were both beating like jackhammers.

Justin lifted his legs and wrapped them around Brian’s waist and Brian slid into him again, moving with effortless grace. His hands in Justin’s hair, his mouth on Justin’s his tongue mimicking the movements of his cock as they danced to music only they heard. 

When Justin did come Brian was only a few strokes away and when they both allowed their bodies to simply float Justin was able to let go of the anger. He let it float for the moment with the rest of him in that hazy fog. He knew it would find it’s way back, the same way he always managed to find his way back… but he was happy to have it gone, if only momentarily. He was happy to have Brian’s hand smoothing sweaty hair off of his forehead. He was, at the moment, happy.

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

Justin was nervous. Brian was pretending he wasn’t. This was not going to be that easy. Jennifer was not going to let this go. Or maybe she would. He hoped but he didn’t really believe it.

Her plane had landed on time and she had called Justin from the hotel to let him know she was safe and settled and on her way. Justin had paled visibly. Brian took his hand. He squeezed and tried not to worry too much about Justin’s inability to squeeze back too hard, he’d done his PT for the day and the muscles were probably tired. 

He refused to wear a sling. It wasn’t necessary at all times but he was supposed to wear it occasionally if for no other reason than to keep his arm in a different position. He was going to try to play this off to his mother as no big deal, his arm in a sling wasn’t gonna help his argument any.

Brian watched Justin fidget. He watched him rearrange the cheese on the tray again. 

“Cut it out.”

“I’m just…”

“Worried you’re mommy’s going to yell?”

Justin laughed. “You make it sound stupid.”

“Well, in all fairness, you do have brain damage.”

“Seriously, Brian, no brain damage jokes in front of my mother.”

“You tried to dye yourself blue when you were five… I’m pretty sure she’s known about it longer than I have.”

“Christ, I wish she’d never told you that.”

Brian was about to say something when the doorman announced an arrival. They both tensed visibly and Justin went to answer the door when he heard the elevator stop on their floor.

“Hi mom.”

“Hi sweetie. Brian.”

Brian waved and walked over to hand her a gin and tonic. 

“Thank you. What’s wrong?”

“Who said anything’s wrong?”

“Justin… you fly me out here, Brian’s plying me with drinks before I can get my coat off, and… What the hell happened to your head?”

“Brain damage?”

Brian laughed and Justin blushed… he’d meant to break it to her a little more gently than that but they were the first words that came to mind. 

Jennifer’s hand drifted up to the still visible scar just behind his hair line. “Justin did you fall?”

Justin sat down. “Mom… this is going to sound a lot worse than it is.”

“That doesn’t help.”

“Fuck it doesn’t. I forgot. Okay. Remember that time I went to the prom?”

“Justin.” Jennifer was not amused and she was pacing in front of the table where Justin was sitting. He waited 'til her back was turned to use his left hand to lift his right onto the table. He arranged it to try and make it look more normal, crossed his other arm over it and tried to get her attention again. “Mom.”

“Justin. Did someone hurt you again?”

“No.”

Jennifer seemed relieved. She sat down and held her hand out. Justin reached his left hand to hold hers and she gave him an odd look.

“Okay. Let me tell you this without you flipping out and without you interrupting.”

She looked at him warily. Brian was standing back, waiting. The fallout could go either way on this one. Crying relief or cold disapproving anger at not being told. He let Justin tell the story.

“No one hurt me _again_. I was having some problems. Hand tremors, headaches, the usual bullshit. But they got worse. Then they got um, more worse.”

“Justin…”

“Mom let me finish.”

“So basically, I went to see a doctor. They said there was some scar tissue and that’s what was causing the problems. It was gonna keep getting worse so they went in and removed the scar tissue, resolved the problem and now… well, I’m all better.”

“All better?’

“Yeah. See.” Justin smiled.

“Move your hand.”

Justin waved his left hand at her.

“Your other hand.” Her eyes were narrow and distrusting. Brian knew that look. He refilled her glass. 

“You had brain surgery?”

“Minor brain surgery.”

“You had minor brain surgery.”

“Yeah.”

“When exactly was this?”

“Monday.”

“Five days ago you had _minor_ brain surgery and I’m hearing about it now.”

“You’re one of the first to know.”

“I’m honored.”

“I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

“Out of brain surgery.”

“See, you keep using that phrase like it’s magical. It’s just a small procedure.”

“In which surgery was performed on your brain.”

“Just some scar tissue removed. A little synapse and neural rerouting. Some PT and I’ll be back to moderately gimpy in no time at all.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t tell anyone.”

“I’m not anyone. I’m your mother.”

“I didn’t tell anyone at all. Just you know… Brian and Aaron.”

“Well yes of course Brian and Aaron deserved to know… they gave birth to you and raised you… oh wait…”

“Mom, don’t. Brian had to know, I kind of live with him and stuff so he might have noticed if I was gone for five days and came back a drooling idiot.”

“You were a drooling idiot when this started.” Brian interrupted taking a seat at the end of the table. He wanted to sit near Justin. To offer his support but he didn’t want to look like some united front against Jennifer. That wasn’t what this was about.

“Are you okay mom?”

Brian lifted an eyebrow at Justin and he shot him a look back. “I can ask her, you can’t ask me.”

“Justin. Were you… I mean, did you… was it… serious?”

“No. It was very non serious brain damage.”

Jennifer was losing patience quickly. “Start from the beginning. Tell me what happened and where we are now.”

Justin took a deep breath and the beer Brian offered him. He started. When he got to the arm paralysis Jennifer handed Brian her glass and he went to refill it while Justin told the rest of the story, leaving out some of the scarier bits but getting the basics close enough. 

“So now I’m home. I can move the first three fingers, but not my index finger or thumb too well. I can’t move my forearm yet but they say that will come with time, just like before.”

“Brian.”

Brian looked over to Jennifer. “Mmmm?”

“Did he skip anything important?’

Brian laughed. “No. I think this may have actually broken him of that habit”

“So you didn’t know?’

“Not ‘til a couple of weeks ago really. Not how bad it had gotten.”

“And you both decided not to tell me.”

“Justin’s a grown man. He makes his own decisions.”

“Pfft.”

Brian looked to Justin. “Is that where you get it?”

“I think she got it from me.”

“Doesn’t matter, I have it now. And you could have told me. You could have told me when I called.”

“Not my story to tell.”

“Bullshit.”

“Mother Taylor… he’s fine. He’s perfect, he’s gonna be even better once he can move his forearm and once he stops trying to rip through his skin to get to the nerve endings” Brian said as he pulled Justin's hand away from his raw skin.

“Whoops.”

“Yeah, cut it out.”

“Have you told anyone else back home?”

“Deb doesn’t know.”

“Her head’s gonna explode.”

“You tell her.”

“Justin. Sweetheart. Fuck no. You decided not to let her make you lasagna and wait with Brian, you can tell her you let them open your head without her consent.”

“Please.”

“See, now if you had told me BEFORE the surgery I might have been able to help you with this.”

“You’re fucking evil.”

“Remember that next time you decide to keep important information from your mother.”

“Fuck. You did take lessons from Debbie.”

“And your sister. She really has the guilt thing down.”

“How _is_ Molly?”

“That’s another story for another day.”

“We’ve got time.”

“Later. Right now I think we should have lunch and then I can learn all the cute new names for your little issue.”

“Oh, we just call it brain damage.”

“Lovely.”

“It works for us.” 

Brian kissed Justin as he walked by. “So, you want a tour of the place or are you gonna just sit in judgment all day?”

Jennifer laughed. “I’d love a tour and then Justin, if you feel like it, we can hit a museum or something, you can’t possibly want to stay cooped up inside forever.”

“That’s a good idea. Justin smiled and Brian grinned. Brian wasn’t stupid. Jennifer had more guilt to work on Justin, she did it better when he wasn’t around. 

Jennifer smiled. She wasn’t stupid. Brian probably hadn’t been far from Justin’s side since they’d first heard about this, which meant that one or the both of them were ready to claw out their own eyes, or the others. 

Jennifer kissed Brian’s cheek before they left. “We’ll be back late. I think Justin needs me.”

Justin kissed Brian far less chastely. “Go out. Take Aaron if you need to rescue something. I think my mother needs me.”

Brian laughed and wondered if he was as transparent as they were. He showered and didn’t call Aaron. A night out might be a good idea. Nothing would happen to Justin, safely ensconced in a boring museum with his mommy.


	11. Chapter 11

  
Author's notes: feedback etc. here or at LJ, where i'm also vamphile.  


* * *

* * *

**Keeping It Together**

**Chapter Eleven**

* * *

Justin and Jennifer were silent in the cab. She saw Justin stumble a little at the entrance to the [http://www.frick.org/information/index.htm](%E2%80%9D<a?PHPSESSID=2db5a4a8468357e3d6948a3c61f54b15)”> Frick and took his arm. He shrugged away from her. 

“You don’t need to guide me like I’m an invalid.”

Jennifer held her hands up. “Sorry.”

“It’s just my arm.”

“But…”

“I stumble sometimes because I keep overcompensating or something. That’s what the therapist says.”

“Okay.”

“I’m fine you know.”

“I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Well, I don’t _know_. If I had known in advance and had more than a couple of hours to get used to the idea, I might be more convinced.”

Justin sighed. “You’re not done.”

“No. I’m not done. I understand, I think. But Justin, this is big. I had a right to know and a right to worry. And I know you don’t think I’m good in a crisis but you know what? I’m not as bad as you think, and I’ve gotten better.”

“I guess.”

“You’d know if you gave me a chance.”

“I couldn’t risk it with this, mom.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s taking all the energy I have to be strong enough for Brian. It’s probably taking more than he’ll admit to keep it together for me. I couldn’t risk him having to keep anyone else together too.”

“And that’s what you think. That I’d need Brian to keep from falling apart?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you don’t know much about me then do you?”

“I know that you couldn’t deal with me after I was bashed. I know that you didn’t want to admit anything was wrong with Molly. I know that you missed the signs with Molly last year. And I’m not blaming you… I missed them too. I’m not holding it against you… I just needed this to be as painless as possible for Brian.”

“What about for you?”

“I can’t do this without him so it was sort of a selfish need for him to be okay.”

“Christ, you two are so fucking co-dependant.”

“How’s that therapy going?”

“I don’t know that because I’m in therapy. I know it because anyone can see it.”

“We’re not co-dependant.”

“If you say so.”

“I do. And I have evidence to back it up.”

“Do you?”

Justin nodded and stopped to study a painting he particularly liked. He reached out towards it… he was about to pull his hand back, as he often had to do in museums before some security guard came over, but he realized that while his brain had told his arm to reach forward, his arm had not gotten the signal. He took a step away from the painting. Jennifer continued on with their previous train of thought.

“You have proof you’re not co-dependant?”

“Yeah. Got tired of everyone telling me that. I did some research. Co-dependant means you can’t function without the other and that you feed each other’s negative behaviors. We don’t do that. We function fine separately, as the past four years have proven. And I sure as hell don’t feed his negative behavior. Plus, he doesn’t let me get away with anything.”

“With anything he disapproves of.”

“Which is pretty much anything he thinks is dangerous.”

“He has a skewed version of dangerous.”

“Oh Christ. I am so not having this discussion with _you_.”

“What conversation?”

“The one about our non monogamy.”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“So what did you mean?”

“I’m not blind Justin. You think I don’t know the two of you are more than recreational drug users.”

“Are you calling me a addict?”

“I don’t know. I think Brian is. He’s a functional addict but still…”

“He is not.” Justin walked away, pretending to study another painting. In reality he was fuming. Okay, his mother knew they got stoned. Probably assumed they did more than that but calling Brian an addict. He was not…was he?

Jennifer was standing close. “He’s can’t keep up this pace forever Justin. He was still a kid when you met him.”

“That’s not what you said then.”

“He’s much older than you. Theoretically he was a grown man but he’s about to hit forty...”

“Wanna drive him over the edge? Tell him that.”

“I’m serious. How cute is it for him to be passing out and self medicating at forty?”

Justin smiled. “It’s pretty fucking cute. And really, you just don’t know anything about this. Mom, Brian’s fine. Well, not fine. He’s fucked up, and twisted, and has this bizarre ego thing coupled with a weird low sense of self worth sometimes but he really doesn’t have a drug problem.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. And even if I weren’t. that’s something Brian and I would deal with together. It’s not something I need my mommy’s help with.”

“I’m not trying to treat you like a child, Justin. Stop acting as if I am. I’m simply saying that Brian’s strength is sometimes chemically enhanced and I don’t want to see him crash and burn because he’s trying to stay strong for you. I don’t want to see you crash and burn because you’re trying to stay strong for him.”

Justin nodded. “We both know there’s more to deal with than we’re discussing. It’ll happen, just not yet.”

“How do you know what he knows?”  
  


“I’m psychic.”  
  


“Justin.”

“I know Brian. He thinks he can hide shit from me. He can’t. He’ll go out tonight. He’ll get stoned. He’ll get drunk. He’ll probably get laid, but you know that too… and he’ll be better for a couple of days and eventually, I promise, we’ll have some sort of huge fight and he’ll yell and tell me what a fucking princess I am for not telling him sooner. I’ll yell and scream and tell him that he should fucking get over it. Then we’ll make up.”

“But nothing will be settled.”

“There’s nothing to settle. This is how we do it.”

“And you’re happy?”

“Except for the fact that I can’t use my right hand.”

“Then I’ll let it go. But if you need me…”  
  


“I’ll let you know.”

“Good.”

“So what _is_ new with Molly?”

“She’s moving to Arizona.”

“She doing better?”

“I think so. But then…”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it before. None of us saw that coming last year.”

“I probably should have.”

“She was working really hard to hide it.”

“I guess I should have worked harder.”

“Stop it, please. You can’t do this to yourself. You can’t let her do this to you.”

“I’m just concerned about what she won’t even have to hide if she’s living that far away.”

“But she really scared herself last time.”

“I think so.”  
  


“What does her doctor say?”

“Nothing to me. Confidentiality.”

“Yeah I know. How ‘bout you? How are you doing?”

“I’m good. I’m seeing someone.”

“Really?”  
  


“It’s still new. Nothing for you to get upset about yet.”

“I won’t get upset.”

“Really?”

“Well, I will, but I won’t tell you about it.”

Jennifer laughed. “I guess that’s the best I can hope for.”

“So is it serious?”  
  


“Not at the moment.”

“What’s he like?”

“He’s nice. He has a son and daughter. His wife died five years ago, car accident.”

“That sucks.”

“The kids seem to be doing okay. They’re almost done high school.”

“So he’s not freakishly young?”

“He’s over twenty-one.”

“Don’t fuck with me.”

“Justin, his age is none of your business.”

“But he’s not like Tucker young right?”

“I haven’t seen Tucker in four years. Why would you even bring him up?”

“He was disturbing.”

“So you’re the only one allowed to date beautiful and inappropriately aged men?”  
  


“Pretty much.”

“Brian’s right.”

“Don’t tell him that. About what?”

“You really are a hypocrite.”

“I just have different rules for different people. I’m an individualist.”

“Molly’s serious about some guy.”

“Really?”

“It’s just an online thing at the moment. I think she’s more comfortable with that than anything.”

“She’s still got issues.” Justin moved back a little to take the painting in more fully.

“She’ll probably always have them. Craig really left quite a legacy.”

“Aaron and I are doing okay.”

“Right. You have no daddy issues at all.”  
  


“You think Brian is a daddy issue thing?”

Jennifer tilted her head and looked at Justin. She ran her hand through his hair. “I thought he might have been. I think it’s something else now.”

“And what’s that?”

“You’ll just get angry if I say it.”

“Say it anyway.”

“I think it’s a marriage.”

“You and Aaron. Same fucking brain.”

“Justin.”

“What?”

“Language. We’re in a museum.”

“So fucking what. I’m tired of being told that I’m with Brian because I need a daddy and I’m just as tired of being told I’m married to him. Last time I checked we cancelled the wedding.”

“And bought a house.” Jennifer reminded him.

“Two houses. Still not married.”

“If you say so.”

“I’m not the only one saying so. Ask Brian.”

“Should I call him now?” Jennifer smirked.

Justin shook his head. “I don’t think now’s a good time. C’mon, Lee has a gallery show tonight. Join me.”

“I’d love to.”

They wandered around the museum for a while longer until Jennifer said she was tired and wanted to stop back at her hotel to change. In truth, Justin looked exhausted and she just thought he might need some down time before they headed back out for the evening.

  
~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

Brian was at a club a client had told him about. He had no desire to hit Scenic or Torrid tonight. He had no desire to run into anyone he knew. It had nothing to do with judgments or tricking… everyone seemed to understand that these days… but they also knew about Justin’s surgery.

He hadn’t felt comfortable tricking while Justin was in the hospital. Justin had told him to. Aaron had tried to get him to. He just… he had thought about it. Hell, five days without getting laid was not a common occurrence, but it felt too much like replacement therapy. The thought of replacing, rather than supplementing, struck him like a blow. Until he was sure he and Justin were all right… he was not able to think beyond that.

In another lifetime he might have worried about that more. He might have gone out and fucked anything he could just to prove that he didn’t care. That was then. 

Now that he knew that he and Justin were okay. Now that he knew that whatever recovery Justin had to deal with it wasn’t going to be a threat to what they had together… he needed to get out. He needed to find someone hot and fuck him hard. He needed to be Brian fucking Kinney, and not Brian Taylor-Kinney concerned whatthefuckever boyfriend or something.

The club was hot. The DJ sucked. The guy he had a Babylon could probably make a fortune in New York but he was in a long-term relationship with someone in Pittsburgh and probably wouldn’t leave until that ended. So for the moment… Brian shook his head. He did NOT need to be thinking about Babylon and business and anything other than his next drink, his next trick, his next dance. He was grinding against a really hot guy who was just a few inches shorter than he.

Justin was right… the kid really wasn’t his type. Maybe that’s why they worked. Brian put his hands on the guy’s hips pulling him closer. He stopped thinking about Justin. Justin was out with his mommy. Justin was fine. Tonight he was not with Justin and that was good.

He felt the man’s hands pull him off the dance floor and he followed him to the back room. The guy was on his knees in moments and Brian leaned his head back, enjoying the feel of a talented mouth and no emotional repercussions. He came hard and zipped himself back up.

The guy was smart. He knew the drill and didn’t bother asking for a dance, a number or even a name. It was sometimes nice to be on the same page as an anonymous stranger. He chewed the tab of E he’d brought with him and took another drink. Then he ordered water and did not let his mind drift to Michael and how he never paid for his own water when Michael was around. 

A tall guy with light brown hair, narrow hips, good shoulders and really vivid green eyes came into view and Brian set his sights on him. By their third dance Brian was ready to head towards the back room but this guy… no names, some rules made sense, was looking for something more intense.   
  


“Let’s go to my place.”

Brian shrugged and they walked out into the crisp march air together. Brian lit a cigarette and stubbed it out when a cab stopped at the curb. His hands were all over Brian’s body and Brian reciprocated, appreciating the rock hard abs and strong thighs he felt beneath the clothes.

Things got more heated in the elevator and when they finally got to his place Brian barely had time to nod his assent before they were in the bedroom. Naked and sweaty and good. Not great, Brian admitted to himself in the back of his head, but good. Great is reserved for sex that doesn’t contain those awkward discussions, those verbal directions necessary because a hand gesture and a growl isn’t something this guy can translate…he doesn’t speak that language, no one did…well, Justin could, but this wasn’t Justin…that was the whole point… and it was hot. 

The guy knew what he was doing and was either on some really strong stuff or was just indifatigueable. It didn’t matter. They both got off, several times, before Brian left. 

“You can stay.”

“No I can’t.”

The guy shrugged. “Gimme a call some time.”

“Not my thing.”

“Whatever.”

“Bye.”

Brian left and checked his watch, just after four. He checked the street sign, he was only a couple of blocks away, he decided to walk.

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

Lee’s show was going pretty well. He was getting good word of mouth reviews and a few local critics had been more than complimentary. Justin and his mother mingled and his friends all politely avoided the subjects of the recent surgery, his loss of motor skills and where Brian might be… until Aaron showed up. 

“Hey.”

“Hi Aaron.”

“Hi Jennifer.”

“Thought you’d already seen this show.” Justin said to Aaron.

“Wanted to see Lee tonight, figured I’d catch him before the place closed and firm up some plans.”

“He avoiding you?”

“What? No. He’s just been busy.”

Justin nodded. “I’m sure.”

“He has. He’s not avoiding me.” Aaron walked over to Lee, who wasn’t avoiding him. He put his arm around his waist and left it there.

“They’re still together?” Jennifer asked.

Justin shrugged. “It’s not serious, I don’t think. It’s an on again off again thing.”

“Seems on now.”

Justin looked over and Lee’s hand was now on Aaron’s ass, he fought back whatever stupid big brother protective thing he felt. Aaron was twenty fucking years old. He’d already slept with Lee and god knows how many others. Instead of intervening he just nodded and turned his attention back to his mother. “Yeah, apparently, currently on.”

“Well, I’ll head back to the hotel if you want to go out with your friends.”

“Mom, don’t be silly. You’re only here for a couple days and I can see them anytime. Besides I’m gonna have to go home eventually anyway. I sleep a little more these days.”

“Because you’re healing.”

“I guess.”

“Just giving you the option. Completely your choice.”

“I know that.”

“And you did nap at the hotel.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize, you were tired.”

“I was. Like I said, healing.”

“I said it.”

“I meant to say it.”

“For you to say it you’d have to admit there’s something to heal.”

“Stop. I told you eventually.”

“Five days Justin. You had brain surgery and didn’t tell me for five days.”

“Grrr. I really thought you were over that.”

“Silly. You thought wrong.”

“Any idea when you will be over it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just call a couple of times a day to make sure you don’t have any more medical procedures scheduled.”

“Maybe I’ll change my number.”

“I’ll call Brian.”

“Cause he told you this time.”

“Hmmm. Aaron. I could probably trick Aaron into telling me.”

“I’ll tell you next time.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, then can you do me a favor?”

“Yes mother?”

“Don’t have a next time.”

Justin saw that there were tears in her eyes and he put his glass of champagne on a passing tray and used his good hand to hug her. “I’ll try.”

“Okay.”

Justin got home a little after one. The place was empty and he was relieved. He had hoped Brian would go out. Blow off some steam; enjoy some quality time by himself, with a couple hundred beautiful men and some loud music. 

Soon they were gonna have to deal with the fact that he might not be better in three weeks the way he’d hoped.

Eventually they might have to deal with the fact that he might never be better. He knew he had to deal with the fact that there were moments when he wanted to throw Lee against a wall this evening and not because he was being overly familiar with his half-breed but because he was smiling and humbly accepting praise for his work and Justin wasn’t sure _he’d_ ever be able to do that again.

He curled into bed and lifted his right arm, draping it over a pillow. He used his left hand to massage the muscles in his thumb and forefinger and concentrated on getting them to move. He fell asleep.

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~  
  


Brian was three blocks from their building. The streets were quiet for New York. It was four in the morning and almost no one was out. The steady sounds of traffic and sirens continued unabated.

He was thinking about Justin. He was wondering how to broach the subject of a realistic recovery expectancy, both in time and ability. He was trying out different approaches in his head and didn’t notice the footsteps behind him 'til the guy brushed past him.

He was about to say something rude regarding an entire sidewalk and no one else around and the person’s current state of inebriation when the figure stopped directly in front of him. He was holding something, the light from a streetlamp reflected off of it and Brian paled. 

“Your wallet, and your watch.”

Brian reached slowly for his wallet and then took off his watch, he didn’t care about either, there was nothing irreplaceable in them and nothing the guy could do once he cancelled the credit cards. He was thinking about what a pain in the ass it would be to have to make all those calls and sighed.

“You bored? I can make this interesting.”

“Just leave me the fuck alone.” Brian took a step forward to shoulder past the asshole but he raised the knife and Brian stepped back.

“See, it’s more interesting now huh?”

“Yeah, you’ve got my full attention.”

“Good. What else you got?”

“Got?”

“Empty your pockets.”

“Brian shrugged. He tossed a condom, a couple of packets of lube and his phone at the guy’s feet.

“No keys?”

“Nope.”

“You homeless? You don’t fucking look homeless.”

“You do.” Brian was tired, he was still a little tweaked and he was now very pissed off.

“How you get in da house?”

“Alarm code.”

“No key?”

Brian bit back a sigh. He’d just said that. “No key.”

“What’s the code?”

“Fuck you.”

“Gimme the code.”

Brian thought about Justin, probably asleep upstairs at the moment. “I’m not giving you the code.”

“You want me to cut you?”

“No, I already told you, I want you to fuck off.”

“Then give me the code.”

“Eleven twenty six”

The guy laughed and Brian pushed by him. He grabbed Brian’s arm. “I ain’t stupid. I know you don’t give me the right code.” 

Brian twisted his wrist but the guy’s grasp was firm. 

“You wanna die?”

“Not tonight thanks.”

“You think this is a joke?”

“Get the fuck off me.”

The man leaned in and Brian could smell stale sweat and garlic and fear. He wasn’t sure who was more afraid right now but he took a chance that it was his mugger. He pushed his entire body towards the man who stumbled back in surprise, releasing his hold on Brian’s arm. Brian ran the couple of blocks back home. His heart was beating in his ears and there was no time to see if anyone was following him. He didn’t stop until he was inside the door. The night watchman looked up. 

“You okay Mr. Kinney?”

“Yeah, just a mugger. Gonna have to cancel my fucking credit cards.”

“You need me to call an ambulance?”

“He didn’t hurt me. Just threatened.”

“Mr. Kinney. You’re bleeding.”

Brian looked down at his leg. Fuck. “Don’t need an ambulance. Just a scratch.”

The security guard nodded and Brian got on the elevator.

Justin was asleep in bed, his arm draped over a pillow, holding it against his chest. Brian closed and locked the bathroom door. He sat on the edge of the tub and couldn’t stop shaking.


	12. Chapter 12

  
Author's notes: comments and feedback, critique and critsizm, here or at my LJ where i'm also vamphile  


* * *

* * *

**Keeping It Together**

**Chapter Twelve**

* * *

Justin rolled onto his stomach. His left arm reached for Brian and found nothing. He woke up and looked at the clock. Almost five. He struggled to sit up, wondering if he should worry and then saw the light coming from under the bathroom door. He stumbled out of bed, still groggy and pushed the door open a little.

“Fuck. What happened?”

Brian shrugged and finished cleaning the blood off his leg. “I got mugged. Want a beer?” He pushed past Justin and headed towards the kitchen. Justin followed.

“You got mugged?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna have to cancel my credit cards. And fuck, my phone. Dammit, that’s gotta be cancelled fast. Gimme yours so I can call and report it.”

“To the police?”

“No to the phone company.”

“Your leg is still bleeding.”

Brian looked down and grabbed a towel from the drawer pressing it against the cut. “Yeah… he had a knife.”

“A KNIFE?”

“Stop yelling.” Brian winced.

“You got mugged, at knifepoint?”

“Seems like.”

“Brian. The police. And the hospital. No. Hospital then police.”

“I don’t need a hospital, it’s just a scratch. The police won’t be able to do shit. Go back to bed. I’ve got a bunch of calls to make.”

“Did they get anything else?”

“Not they, him. One guy. And no. Well my watch, and a couple of packets of lube. I think I’ll be able to replace it all.”

“But what about…”

“What?”  
  


“Your leg?”

Brian took a long swallow of his beer. “It’ll stop bleeding soon. It’s just a flesh wound.”

Justin followed him over to his desk where Brian started pulling out papers. “I think I have all that information somewhere. If not I’m gonna have to call and wake Ted.”

“Brian.”

“Justin. I don’t need this bullshit right now.”

“Oh sorry, didn’t mean to worry about you and your pretty new stab wound.”

“I didn’t get stabbed. I rushed the guy and he nicked me.”

“You rushed the guy?”

“Would you stop repeating everything I say?”

“Stop repeating you?”

“Go to bed.”

“No.”

“You need to sleep.”

“Why? Nowhere I need to be tomorrow.”

“Don’t you have plans with mommy?”

“Stab wound trumps lunch plans.”

Brian sighed. Fine. Sit down and shut up. At least I didn’t have the KinnetiK phone with me.”

“Dammit Brian.”

“What?”

Justin shook his head. “I don’t know. Why the fuck did this happen?”  
  


“Life sucks.”

“No shit.”

“Hey, you’re not allowed to agree with me.”

“I’m not? Since when?”

“Since we can’t both be in a negative spiral at the same time.”

“Yeah well mine started first…brain damage.”

Brian sighed. “Fuck. Brian damage trumps stab wound.”

Justin laughed. “We really should stop playing this game.”

“Why? It’s a good shortcut for prioritization.”

“Yeah but _healing_ brain damage doesn’t trump _fresh_ stab wound.”

“Where’s that written?”

“Where ever the rules of this stupid game are listed.”

“Are you stoned?”  
  


“No. Are you?”

“A little.”

“So you’re probably the one having difficulty following the conversation.”

Brian shook his head slowly. “It’s gotta be you. You’ve got brain damage.”

Justin leaned back into the recliner and watched as Brian found the paper he was looking for. He started making phone calls. 

Justin didn’t say a word while Brian punched his numbers into the keypad and cursed when he hit a wrong key. He wanted to go and examine Brian’s leg but he knew Brian would push him away and he couldn’t fight his way closer with only one hand… but Brian had to sleep sometime. He’d make sure it was okay then. He wasn’t letting this go but there was absolutely no point in dealing with any of it until Brian finished his anal retentive, control freak like need to finish the stupid logistical bullshit.

An hour later Brian was off the phone. He looked over towards Justin. “It’s all fine. Everything’s cancelled, they’re overnighting me a new Amex and a new black card, so we can still pay for lunch tomorrow. I have to go buy a new phone tomorrow but the old one is cancelled and they wiped the account.”

“Huh?”  
  


“He won’t be able to get any important information from it, the phone’s locked.”

“They can do that?”

“Yeah. Handy.”

“How bout your leg?”

“Bleeding’s stopped.”

“How do you feel?”

“Like shit.”

“Come to bed.”

“Come with me.”

“Only if you tell me what happened.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Promise?”

“Sure, why not? You can help me make it sound cool. It was pretty boring.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’ve always heard about getting held at knifepoint… the worst part is the tedium.”

Brian smiled stood in front of the chair offering Justin his hand. Justin took it with his left and Brian heaved him up. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“You too.”

They were both laying on their backs. Neither able to sleep. 

“Now I’m not tired.”

“Me either.”

“You have fun with your mother?”

“Sort of. She did the guilt thing.”

“Yeah, she needed to get that out of her system.”

“She’d better be done.”

“She’s not. She’s a mom. If Gus went in for surgery…”

“Gus is nine.”

“He won’t always be nine.”

“Really? I thought you’d had him cryogenically frozen in time.”

“What?”

“No idea.”

“You really do have brain damage.”

“Pfft.”

“Gonna file that lawsuit tomorrow.”

“Pfft.”

“A really big one. Pay off this place with the first settlement offer then sue them again.”

“Brian?”

“Yeah?”

“Does your leg hurt?”

“Took something, feeling no pain.”

Justin’s thoughts turned back to his mother’s comments about Brian and addiction but then he realized he was being ridiculous. He’d been stabbed. You get to take pain medication when you get stabbed. He was suddenly aware that Brian’s breathing had changed. “Hey!”

“What?”

“You started without me.”

“You were thinking.”

“You can stop that.”

“Yeah I can.” Brian rolled over, his body covering Justin's. Both still in cotton underwear. Brian made small circles against Justin’s growing erection. “You’re getting hard.”

“Duh.”

“Such a brilliant man.”

“Fuck me.”

“Really brilliant.”

“Now.”

Brian's hands were sliding under the waistband of Justin’s briefs stroking the soft skin just below it… teasing him.

“I said now.”

“You always say now.”

Justin insinuated his hand between himself and Brian and stroked slowly, his palm against Brian’s hard cotton clad cock, the back of his hand providing him the friction he was looking for. Brian shook his head and pulled Justin’s good hand over his head.

“I’m going to fuck you.”

“Good.”

“Just not yet.”

“Bad.”

“You have absolutely no patience.”

“Patience is overrated.”

Justin knew Brian wasn’t Justin talking about his desire to come. He chose to ignore the double meaning. “Get me off Brian. Please.”

“Begging so soon. Hmmm… guess you didn’t have much fun tonight.”

“Yeah, I’m really quite the little hottie with the gimp arm and my mother hovering.”

“You actually are.”

“Only because you perv on the weirdest shit.”

“I perv on you.”

“Like I said. Weird shit.”

“You’re not weird.”

“I’m not?” It was almost a moan. Brian's hand was sliding between the crack of Justin’s ass. 

“Nope. You’re a little insane, but that’s just because of the brain damage.”

“I think it might be because you’re driving me crazy. What part of fuck me did you not understand?”

“The part where you think you’re running this show.”

“Christ I wish my arm worked.”

Brian pulled back a little. “It will.”

“I know, but I’d like to flip you over and argue about who’s running this show but I guess I can’t even do that.”

Brian laughed. “You think I don’t know who’s in charge?”

“Not talking about furniture. Talking about here in bed.”

“Bed is furniture.”

“Stop being dense.”

“Stop being brain damaged.” Brian wrapped his arms around Justin and rolled until Justin was laying on top of him. “Better?”

Justin nodded, smiling. He rested his weight on his left arm and stopped just a moment before their lips met. Brian pulled his head down and kissed him. 

Justin guided Brian’s hands and together the removed their underwear. They were both naked and wet and wanting and the question of who was running what was forgotten as Justin ripped open an condom packet and made his lips form a perfect O. He used his tongue and his lips to roll the condom down Brian’s shaft. He lifted his head with a smile. “Good thing I learned to do that no handed.”

Brian growled. “When the fuck did you learn to do that?”

Justin smiled wider. “Does it matter?”

Brian shook his head and Justin lifted himself up onto his knees. He gripped the base of Brian's cock and lowered himself slowly down. Brian’s hands were on his hips and he leaned forward, resting his left hand on Brian’s chest for leverage as he strained his thigh muscles and rode Brian hard.

Their eyes were locked. Their bodies moving together. Justin squeezing the base of Brian’s cock with his ass while Brian put his feet flat on the mattress and pushed up, deeper into him. 

“So fucking hot.”

Justin moved again, twisting his hips and feeling Brian holding his right hand. He was close. They were both close but he wasn’t ready. He stopped. Brian made a noise that might have been a whimper and Justin grinned 'til he saw a flash of pain. He moved his good hand away from Brian’s chest an stroked his thigh where he felt the sticky wetness. “Fuck. Brian.”

“Don’t stop.”

“You’re bleeding again.”

“Don’t fucking stop.”

“Brian.”

Brian was arching up angling his hips a little and Justin groaned. He wouldn’t stop. Brian would keep going and the longer he let this go on, the longer Brian was gonna let himself bleed. He used every trick he knew. Twisting, squeezing and snaking his hand behind him to cradle Brian’s balls, stroke the sensitive spot behind them, tease his fingers around his hole until Brian let out a loud sound. Part pleasure, part pain. And when he let his head flop back onto the pillow Justin crawled off of him and headed to the bathroom for supplies.

He came back with a bandage and some tape. “We don’t have any antibiotic cream.”

“Don’t need it.”

Justin took the wet clean cloth and dried the cut. It really wasn’t so bad. Not wide, or long. It looked like it might be deep but he couldn’t tell. The bleeding had stopped. He put the dressing on it and rolled over Brian onto his back. “We’re both brain damaged.”

“No. Just you.”

“Then we’re both perverted. I’m a gimp. You get stabbed and we decide. ‘Hey, now’s a good time to fuck.’”

“Now’s always a good time to fuck.”

“Tell me that again next time I reopen a wound.”

“It’s just a cut.”

“From a knife.”

“Well, they re made to cut things.”

“Not people.”

“I think this one was made to cut people.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“Tired. Tell you tomorrow.”

Justin nodded and was idly stroking his neglected hard on when Brian’s hands moved his out of the way. “Let me take care of that for you.”

“Thought you were tired.”

“Not gonna leave you hanging.”

“I’m not hanging. That’s the problem.”

Brian smirked and ran his tongue flat and rough and wet and hot and good along the vein that ran along the bottom of Justin's dick.

“God, Brian. No.”

“Promise not to bleed on you.”

“Guuuh, shut up. You’re killing the moment.”

“Then I’ll stop talking.”

He did. He used his mouth, and told Justin all kinds of things, but he didn’t say another word. And when Justin came down his throat he swore he could see stars behind his eyes. He bucked into Brian’s mouth and watched as Brian hollowed out his cheeks and swallowed all of him. He sighed then and they both finally fell asleep. Sated, sweaty, and restless. Justin’s last thought before losing consciousness was, “well, at least the sex still works. Still no reason to worry.”

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

Justin slid in the shower behind Brian. He glanced down at Brian’s thigh. The bandage was off and it wasn’t bleeding, or if it was, the water was washing it away quickly. 

“You’re gonna have to re-dress that.”

“I know.”

“I wish I could help, I did a pretty clumsy job last night.”

“I thought you were pretty graceful.” Brian was massaging the shampoo into Justin’s hair.

“God I love when you do that.”

“Well I have to. You have brain damage.”

“Yeah, apparently it’s permanent.”

“Stop it.”

“It’s been a week.”

“Since you had brain surgery. Did you really expect to be completely better?”

Brian couldn’t tell if Justin was blushing or just turning pink from the heat of the water. He guessed blushing. “You did.”

“A little.”

“You thought you were gonna come home and be completely fine?”

“Sometimes.”

“And when you didn’t think that?”

“I was pretty sure I was going to be a drooling paraplegic who couldn’t talk.”

“Instead you’re a guy with a gimp hand for a little while.”

“I can’t move my arm.”

“You can move your shoulder. And three of your fingers. The doctors say that’s a really good sign. It’s retraining Justin. We can go to the park and throw a ball around.”

“Or I could just jerk you off.”

“Not until you have full dexterity.”

Justin pouted and Brian laughed. “Have to give you something to work towards.”

“And that’s your solution, giving you a hand job?”

“I could just say you can’t touch yourself until you have full dexterity.”

“Pfft.”

“Suing.”

“How would you even control that?”

Brian lifted an eyebrow and turned Justin around to let the water rinse the shampoo down his back. His arm pulled Justin's back closer to his chest and his hand slid down his lean belly and stroked his cock. “I have my ways.”

“Pfft.”

Brian removed his hand. “Not rewarding that sound.”

“Pfft.”

Brian suckled Justin’s neck. “Cut it the fuck out.”

Justin leaned his head to the side so Brian could lick a wider swath across his neck and to his jaw line. When Brian’s tongue was near the corner of his mouth Justin softly whispered “Pfft.”

Brian pulled away from him laughing. “Twat.”

Justin laughed too and they finished their shower with a playful fuck.

Brian started the coffee and Justin grabbed a bagel.

“What time are we meeting your mother?”  
  


“You’re coming?”

“I’m not supposed to?”

“No, I just… I figured after yesterday you might want to spend a lazy Sunday in.”

“Yeah, that sounds just like me.”

“But…”

“It was a fight Justin. A stupid fight with a guy who wasn’t that tough.”

“He had a knife.”

“Yeah, I could have taken him if it weren’t for that.”

“Pfft.”

They both started laughing again. When they stopped Brian asked again.

“One thirty.”

Brian nodded. “I’m gonna try to get some work done.”

“I’m gonna do my PT.”

“No shit.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re supposed to do it once a day. So do it now…but that means you’re done.”

“Bullshit. If once a day is good… three is better.”

“How’s that brain damage coming?”

“I’m working on it.”

Brian glared at him and said “Pfft.” 

Three hours later they were waiting for Jennifer in some pretentious bistro garden themed place a friend of hers had raved about. “An entire menu of nothing but weeds.”

“You like salads.” Justin reminded him.

“Not in the mood.”

“So what do you want?”

Brian raised an eyebrow suggestively and Justin dropped his head on Brian’s shoulder. “Lunch. My mother. Me, you, my mother. Lunch.”

“Point?”  
  


“Not now.”

“Bathroom?”

“Not here.”

“Home?”

“Absolutely.”

“Soon.”

“Right after she gets on a plane.”

“When’s that?”

“Week from Thursday.”

Brian looked crushed and Justin laughed. “Seven. So she’s gotta be in a cab by four.”

“I don’t know if I can wait that long.”

Justin looked around the restaurant. “Do him.” He gestured with his head towards a short skinny redheaded waiter.

Brian grimaced. “Him.” He looked towards a tall decently built guy who was tending bar.

Justin nodded. “Go for it.”

“You. Your mother. Lunch. Can’t.”

“You sure?”

Brian looked at the guy again and squeezed Justin’s knee. “She’s in a cab by Four?”

“Two and a half short hours.”

“Long hours.”

“I’m not holding you back.”

“I know.”

Justin was about to say something when his mother slid into the chair across from them. “Hi.”

“Hi mom.”

“Mother Taylor.”

Jennifer rolled her eyes. “So what’s new?”

“Brian got stabbed.”

“What?”

Brian laughed. “Your brain damage is showing.” He whispered into Justin’s ear. He turned his attention to Jennifer. “It was nothing. Some guy wanted my wallet. He nicked me with a blade. I’m fine now.”

“Did he get your wallet?”

“Yeah, and my phone. We have to go get another one today.”

“The blue tooth 3.0 is for shit… but the newest ones really work.”

Justin looked at his mother as if he’d never seen her before. “That’s all you’re gonna say…don’t buy an obsolete phone?”

“What did you want me to do? Clutch my napkin to my chest, throw a hand over my brow, swoon?”

“Um… yeah?”

“You’re right. You do have brain damage. Let me ask this. Brian.”

“Yeah?”

“You gonna walk around alone late at night anymore?”

Brian chuckled. “I might take a cab.”

Jennifer shrugged. “He seems to be alive and kicking. He’s not gonna be stupid again. And it’s not like you can always avoid danger. The key is to handle it realistically.”

Justin frowned. “Who are you and what have you done with my mother?”  
  


“I’m like the blue tooth 4.0 version. I get better reception and I’m clear when sending a voice signal.”

“What, do you work for those people now?”

“No. Max does.”

“Max?” Brian interrupted.

“The man I’m seeing.”

“He’s over twenty one.” Justin added.

Brian nodded. “It’s good to stay away from jailbait.”

“How the fuck would you know?”

“Because I didn’t and see what happened?”  
  


Jennifer threw a piece of breadstick at Brian who looked up surprised. “What the fuck was that?”

“Just me reminding you two I was here.”

“We didn’t forget.”

“Yes you did. It’s okay, it’s kind of sweet.”

Brian groaned and Justin laughed. “Yeah, Brian’s really sweet. Very sweet. Saccrine even.”

“Hey, I may be sweet, but I’m not fake.”

“You’re not even sweet.”

“You’re doing it again.” Jennifer tossed a piece of bread at Justin. Justin started to laugh. 

“You threatened to banish us from the table forever when Molly and I did that.”

“You were kids. You had to learn manners.”

“And now that we have?”

“No point in using them to impress me. I already know you’re a rude little shit.”

Brian slung an arm over Justin’s shoulder. “She’s got you there.”

“Fuck off.”

“After five.”

“Right.”

Lunch was pleasant for the most part. Jennifer caught them up on some of the smaller details of their Pittsburgh family. The things they would have heard from Michael or Debbie if they hadn’t been avoiding the both of them recently.

They walked around for a little bit, window-shopping Jennifer actually helped Brian pick out a new phone. The store promised to program it for him and deliver it to his office in the morning.

Justin watched Brian to make sure his leg wasn’t bothering him. Both Jennifer and Brian watched Justin to make sure he wasn’t over doing it and eventually they said goodbye to Jennifer at her hotel and decided to walk home.

“So you never did tell me the whole story.”

“Not much to tell.”

“You told me once that details are fun.”

Brian took a deep breath and gave Justin a play by play.

“You weren’t scared?”

“A little. Mostly I was aggravated.”

“Well that guy needs to fucking die.”

“Good to see you’ve got that anger thing totally under control now.”

“He threatened you with a knife. Am I supposed to like him?”

“Don’t let him get to you. I didn’t.”

“Uh huh.”

“I haven’t.”

“We’ll see.”

“Whatever. It’s after four.”

“Yeah it is.”

They got in the elevator and Brian’s hands were pulling Justin’s ass closer. Their bodies were pressed together.

Justin used his good arm to pull Brian's head down for a kiss. His tongue pushed past Brian's lips and he could taste the mint of his gum, and the cigarette he’d recently finished and the faint flavor of the martini he’d had with lunch. “You taste good.” Justin breathed into Brian's neck.

Brian kissed him again. “So do you.”

They moved towards the sofa. Brian’s fingers were deftly removing Justin's clothing. Justin was assisting as much as he could with only one arm. Brian pushed him back and watched him fall. His naked body pale against the dark leather. His legs hanging over the arm. “You’re so fucking hot.”

He knelt in front of Justin, his tongue following his fingers as he stroked and teased the lithe little body in front of him. “So fucking hot.”

“Brian.” It was a moan and Brian smiled. His tongue poking at the folds of skin around Justin's hole, opening him slowly. His saliva preparing him as his fingers and tongue continued their torment. 

Brian watched Justin’s body flush with desire. He felt him begin to writhe under his touch and buck his body forward looking for more than a teasing touch. Brian wasn’t sure how long he could keep teasing him before they both lost all control. He stood up and roughly grabbed Justin’s calves pulling him forward until his cock was lined up with his wet and waiting entrance. He inched his way inside. Slowly. Justin’s breathing was ragged and his hand was clenched in a fist. Brian looked up surprised. “Hey.”

“What?”

“When did that happen?’

“Huh?”

“Your hand.”

Justin looked down. “Holy fuck.”

“Apparently, cause that’s a fucking miracle.”

Justin tried to unclench his right hand and his index finger followed his brain’s instructions. 

“Oh my god. Look.” He continued to crook his finger as if beckoning Brian. It worked. Brian fell forward over him. 

“That’s amazing.”

“You’re amazing.”

“You did this not me.”

“Uh uh, you fucked me better.”

Brian laughed at him. “I think the PT did more than I did.”

“Not so sure. But c’mon. Fuck me. Lets see how many times it takes 'til I get my thumb back.”

Brian slid fully inside Justin then, letting the feel of his fingers scratching at his side, as Justin lost himself to the pleasure of losing control of his body and gaining control of one more part of himself meld into an intense orgasm. 

When Brian came and collapsed on Justin he was smiling. Everything else was bullshit. Justin was getting better and they still worked. What more could he ask for?


	13. Chapter 13

  
Author's notes:

reveiws etc. 

here or on LJ where i'm vamphile 

* * *

* * *

**Keeping It Together**

**Chapter Thirteen**

* * *

Brian hung up his coat and walked towards the sofa. Justin leaned his head back and Brian bent over to kiss him. When they pulled apart he smiled. 

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

Justin was frowning at his hand, which was currently splayed, against his thigh. 

“Problem?”

“Won’t work.”

“What won’t?” Brian tried not to panic. His whole hand? He’d been making progress. Had the whole thing frozen again?

“My thumb. It’s been a two weeks…”

“And your fingers are all working.”

“Not my thumb.”

“You’re getting there.”

“No I’m not.” Justin was manipulating his fingers with his left hand, pulling them backwards, grasping and twisting them, curling them into a ball and then spreading them out again. His thumb remained motionless through all of it. He massaged the muscles in his palm at the base of his thumb. “It still feels a little numb.”

“And you’ve done that how many times today?”

Justin shrugged. “A couple.”

“A couple of hundred?”

“Give or take.”

“Maybe it’s just tired. You’re not supposed to be overusing them.”

“I’m not overanythinging them. I’m not using them at all.”

Brian took Justin’s left hand and moved it away. His right arm was raw from the scratching. “Cut that the fuck out.”

“Itches.”

“Which is good.”

“This is fucking annoying.”

“I know.”

“No you don’t.”

“Trust me. I fucking know how annoyed you are.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t.”

“I just want my arm back.”

“Thought you wanted your thumb back.”

“I want them both.”

“Just like you to want everything.”

“Hey, I shot for everything and came pretty damn close.” Justin smiled leaning back for another upside down kiss.

“I think you might have a skewed version of everything.”

“Probably. Brain damage.”

“Out, or ordering in?”

“Not hungry.”

“Mmm hmm. And I’m sure you had a massive lunch.”

“Then in. Don’t feel like going out.”

“No one’s staring.”

“Yes they are. I’m a gimp with bad table manners.”

“No, I’m just that fucking hot.”

Justin followed Brian into the bedroom and when he hung up his suit Justin moved closer. “Don’t bother getting dressed.”

“Oh?”

“Fuck me.”

“Demanding for a gimp.”

“Fuck me better.” 

Brian laughed. “Doesn’t work that way.”

“Did.”

“Maybe.”

“It’s cause I’m concentrating too hard. Occupy my mind.”

“You mean I don’t already? You think about things other than me?”

“Not seventeen anymore.”  
  


“No shit.”

“Yeah, I was hot then. I’m old and gimpy now.”

“Cut it the fuck out.”

“Sorry. Self pity makes your dick soft.”

“Apparently not.”

Justin smiled. He pulled his own shirt over his head with his left hand and stripped out of his jeans. “Hey look… we match.”

Brian laughed again and Justin was on the bed, on his knees facing Brian. “C’mere.”

Brian took a couple of steps forward. “You just think of ways to get to me while you sit home bored?”

“Yeah, cause naked and hard is new for us.”

“But that…” Brian tilted his head towards a new addition to the bedroom.”

“That? Ordered it weeks ago.”

“Liar.”

“Days ago.”

“Maybe.”

“Thought I could use it as therapy.”

“Therapy?”

“The best kind.”

“You want me to use that?”

“Nope. I’m using it.”

“And then you woke up.”

Justin pouted and Brian bit his protruding lower lip. “You’re not _that_ brain damaged Justin.”

“Worth a shot.”

“You’ll be shooting.”

“Promise?”

“You doubt me?”

“Not about that.” Justin kissed him.

Brian was sucking on Justin’s neck. “About what then?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

“Pfft.”

“Suing.”

“Stop it.”

Brian pushed Justin backwards a little and pulled his legs out from under him. “Now… why did you buy this?”

Justin smiled. “Bored.”

“You should get bored more often.”

“I’m bored all the time. Sitting home with nothing to do.”

“So go out.”

“With my gimp hand?”

“No. Leave it at home and go without it.”

“You’re deranged.”

“You have brain damage.”

“We’re a perfect match.”

Brian was on top of Justin now. His arm reached out to their new toy lying provocatively against the pillows. “Hmmm.”

“It has many uses.”

“Many?”

“Well, okay, one.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“But we can use it many times.”

“Probably will.”

“Fuck me first.”

“First?”

“Now.”

“Christ. How did I end up with a bossy bottom?”

“You hate the submissive type?”

Brian arched an eyebrow. “I do?”

Justin covered his face with his left hand. “Fuck. No. You don’t.”

“No. I don’t. Roll over.”

Justin looked for a moment like he might protest. He didn’t.

Justin was on his stomach and Brian’s body was stretched across him. “You gonna show me how much I like a guy who can submit?”

“Maybe.”

Brian smacked his ass, not too hard, just a little sting. “Maybe?”

“No.”

Brian sat back on his knees. The smack was a little harder this time. “No?”

“God. Brian…”

Brian did it again.

“No.” Justin almost whispered it.

“No?” 

Justin was on his knees now, his head pushed into the mattress his ass directly in front of Brian. “No.”

Brian laughed. “Liar.” His hand came down again, several times in rapid succession and Justin was gasping. “Brian.”

“No?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Yes!”

“Thought so.” He pushed the new toy into Justin’s left hand. “Show me.”

Brian's fingers were lubed and he was pushing them into Justin’s ass now. Justin pushed back against them and he pulled them out. “Do it.”

Brian held the perfect pale globes of his cheeks apart as Justin pushed the wide dildo into himself. His breathing was ragged and Brian laid a few more carefully timed blows on his ass while he watched the phallus disappear inside the kid. “Slower.”

“Brian.”

“Slower, Justin.”

Justin’s hand stopped pushing so hard, and inch-by-inch it sunk into him. “Good boy.”

When it was fully inside him Brian rolled Justin over. “Feel good?”

“Yes.”

Brian moved Justin’s right arm to the base of the shaft. He moved his mouth down to Justin’s leaking cock and licked at the head, holding Justin’s left wrist in his fingers. “Fuck yourself with it. I want to see you come.”

Justin used his fingers, curling them the way he’d been practicing so often on tennis balls and squishy therapy aids. He moaned.

Brian smiled up at him. Licking at his balls and flattening his tongue out to slide along Justin’s hipbone. Stopping to nip at the skin there before moving to his thighs. “C’mon. Let’s see you fuck yourself better.”

“Brian.”

Brian pulled away from him, breaking all contact. “You can do it.”

Justin was writhing, his fingers pushing the toy deeper and then he let it slide out a little as he relaxed his muscles. He pushed it again and used more pressure from his index finger to angle it just right. Brian watched him and rewarded his efforts by taking the head of his cock into his mouth.

His wet lips pressed against the sensitive skin just below it as he licked at the slit, applying pressure. 

Justin was gasping now, his body covered in sweat from the effort and the desire, and the need. Brian’s hand started at his shoulder and caressed his chest. Stopping to pinch and roll his nipples as Justin concentrated on his fingers and his new toy. “Brian. Help.”

“Nope.”

“Brian.”

“You do it. I want to see it.” Brian climbed up Justin’s body licking his nipples, sucking them hard. “Come for me.”

He wanted to help Justin out. Wanted to make him come, and then do it again. He only liked watching Justin in need when he’d created the need in the first place, and even then, he was only postponing the inevitable. More than he wanted to control Justin’s body right now, he wanted Justin to feel his own control. He lifted Justin’s left arm above his head. Kissing him and sliding their hard cocks together. “Don’t stop.”

“Brian.”

“Don’t stop.”

Justin's hand was pumping it in and out of him now and Brian watched the muscles in his biceps flex. He watched as his body rocked and he felt the change in breathing. He felt the warm heat of Justin’s skin become more pronounced. His sweat slicked chest gliding against him and then he arched his back and came with a low mewling sound.

Brian flipped him over quickly, pulling the toy out and replacing it with his sheathed cock. He felt the ripples of the aftershocks of Justin's orgasm and began long slow languid strokes as Justin’s body twitched around him. “Good boy.” He whispered into his ear, as he kept moving inside him. 

He knew Justin was tired now. Using his hand like that had taken a lot of his energy… so had the resulting orgasm. He didn’t rush him. His movements remained unhurried and soon he felt Justin’s body respond again. He felt him push back against his intrusion, accepting and welcoming it. He heard the soft sighs become an almost constant purr and swore the kid might be part feline.

When he used his left arm to raise him up a bit Brian knew he was fully on board again. He pulled him up against his chest and used his own knees to spread Justin’s apart further. His mouth was everywhere and his hand encircled Justin’s cock letting him rut into it as he picked up the pace.

Moments later Brian let go, biting Justin's shoulder and coming deep inside him. Justin let out a gasp that let Brian know he’d come again and then they both collapsed. Their bodies tangled, their faces close, their breathing ragged. Justin’s arm reached backwards and Brian felt his fingers making lazy circles on his hip. “Feel good?”

“Thank you.”

“You did it.”

“Not really.”

“Really.”

“I don’t think that’s the magic bullet though… still can’t use my arm.”

“You sure? It’s trapped under you.”

Brian rolled off of him completely and Justin lay on his back. He bent his fingers…still no thumb movement. He tried to lift his arm. It moved about a half inch off the bed and then flopped back down. 

“That’s new.”

“No, I’ve been able to do that all day.”

“WHAT?”

“Calm the fuck down. I’m using my shoulder, not my forearm. Did you know that FDR walked with his shoulders?”

“What?”

“Saw it on the history channel. He walked by kind of shrugging his way across a room.”

“Are you sure you didn’t use you arm?”

“Pretty sure. I’d know.”

“You didn’t know when you used your finger.”

“I was otherwise occupied.”

“And now?”

“Just fucked out.”

“Well they’ll tell you a lot more tomorrow.”

“Yeah. I really can’t wait to have needles stuck into my arm again.”

“Yesterday you performed a short monologue on how a needle in your arm would reach the itching nerve endings.”

“And you still wouldn’t give me the fucking sewing kit.”

“Wonder why that was?”

“Because you’re an asshole.”

“That must be it.”

“How’d the Remson meeting go?”

“Oh I meant to tell you. We’re leaving next week for Germany.”

“What?”

“Yeah, a couple days there, then I figured Amsterdam.”

“Of course.”

“Then Paris, and if you want we can go stroke Trent and see Daph.”

“It’s Stoke on Trent and WHAT?”

Brian shrugged. “I need to be in Germany for a couple of days. I need to be in Paris for a couple of days. In between that, I need to be in you, so you’ll have to come with me.”

“WHAT?”  
  


“Say what again, motherfucker.”

“You need to stop watching that movie.”

“I like that movie.”

“It’s old.”

“So am I.”

“Are not.”

“Whatever. When were you planning on telling me this?”

“Before we got on the plane.”  
  


“Brian I can’t just…”

“What?”  
  


“Say what again motherfucker.”

Brian pulled him closer and kissed him. “See, it’s a good line.”

“I have things to do.”

“You can bend your fingers and squeeze tennis balls there.”

“But…”

“Daph doesn’t care that your arm is still gimpy.”

“She might.”

“You don’t know.”

“Um…she doesn’t know.”

“What?”

“Say what aga…”

“You didn’t tell Daphne.”

“Didn’t tell anyone prior. Post…well, I just wasn’t sure what to say.”

“So you’ll get to tell her in person.”

“She’s pregnant.”

“Well, I don’t think it’ll cause premature labor.”

“Are we really going to Germany?”

Brian nodded.  
  


“And Paris?”

“And Amsterdam.”

“We can skip Stoke on Trent.”

“Nope. You’re seeing your original hag.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s that or going to Pittsburgh and telling Debbie.”

Justin shuddered. “These are my options?”

“Yes.”

Justin sighed. “Stoke on Trent, massive guilt and a pregnant Daphne. Oh, and I should tell my mother I’m leaving the country.”

“You probably should. And we probably shouldn’t tell Aaron.”

“He’s gonna throw a massive party here, no doubt. If we don’t tell him he’ll think we were abducted.”

“Hmmm.”

“We have to tell him.”

“We can change the alarm code.”

“Brian.”

“If he fucks shit up…”

“He will…”

“When did we get a teenaged son?”

“He’s twenty.”

“When did we get a twenty year old son?”

“I forget. I was pretty tweaked.”

“Well, yeah, crystal queens can be irresponsible about shit like that. End up with unwanted kids.”

“Fuck you.”

“Didn’t we just cover that a few minutes ago?”

“I want to go out to dinner.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m tired of cooking one handed and I haven’t seen a single human being all day.”

“I’m no longer human?”

“When were you human?”

“Shower.”

“Let’s go.”

Brian winced as he stood up. 

“Leg still hurts?”

“Not that much.”

“Probably needed stitches.”

“Too late now.”

“Donatello’s?”

“Mikoginto’s.”

“No sushi.”

“Imperial Diner?”

“Someplace nice.”

“Jessup’s.”

“Yeah. I could go for a steak.”

Brian worked the shampoo through Justin's hair and didn’t take his eyes off his right arm. It was twitching. Was that good?


	14. Chapter 14

* * *

**Keeping It Together** ****

Chapter Fourteen

****

* * *

  

“Fuck.  I can’t find it.”

 

“When was the last time you used it?”

 

Justin gave Brian an annoyed look.  “Before the move.  That’s why I can’t fucking find it.  A lot of shit just got shoved into the cabinets in my office.”

 

“But once construction was done…”

 

“Yeah, that’s when I was busy having brain surgery.”

 

“Which is no excuse for disorganization.”

 

“Brain damage.  I don’t even get to be disorganized when I have brain damage?”

 

“Better reason for you to stay organized.  With all that brain damage you need a system for when you forget shit.”

 

“I didn’t forget anything.  It was in a box with the other paperwork I needed to hold on to.”

 

“And where did that box go?”

 

“If I knew that, I’d know where my passport is!” 

 

“Stop yelling.  We’ll find it.”

 

“What if we don’t?  We’re leaving in three days.”

 

“You tell your mother yet?”

 

“Yeah.  Mom knows.  Daph knows.  I just have to tell Aaron.  You tell Mel and Gus?”

 

“Mmm hmm.”  Brian was flipping through the paperwork in the filing cabinet in Justin’s office.  “Did I look like this?”  He smirked as he handed Justin his passport.

 

“Where the fuck was it?”

 

“In a file marked travel”

 

“Stupid place to put it.”

 

“Your filing system. ”

 

“Oh yeah.”  

 

“Back later.”

 

“K”

 

Brian left and Justin sighed.  He was so fucking bored he wasn’t sure he could wait three days to leave before he clawed his eyes out.  Well, clawed them out slowly, one handed.

 

He started twisting his fingers and focusing on getting his thumb to respond.  It still wasn’t working.  His arm was showing progress.  At least that’s what the doctor had said.  Apparently, it wasn’t all his shoulder and bicep. he did have some minor mobility in his forearm.  His thumb was being stubborn.

 

He lost track of time as he concentrated on getting his arm to move the way he wanted.  It twitched.  He could lift it off the desk a little.  He could turn his wrist.  He couldn’t bend his elbow fully on his own yet though and his fucking thumb.  He was staring at it, willing it to move when Brian walked back in.

 

“You've been sitting here the whole time?”  
  


“What whole time?”

 

Brian sighed and Justin looked at the clock, it was after six.  “Fuck.  Yeah.  Lost track of time.”

 

Brian stood behind Justin and pulled his left hand away from his forearm.  “Did you bother to notice that you drew blood?”

 

Justin looked down again.  “It itched.”

 

“Justin.”

 

“I was doing my PT.”

 

“Really?  That’s new.”

 

“What am I supposed to do?  Should I just sit and wait for it to get better?”

 

“The doctor said you’re doing too much.”

 

“The doctors don’t know shit.”

 

“They’ve done all right so far.”

 

“That was you.  I told you that.”

 

“Right. I magically fucked you better.”

 

“You’re still upset about the lease thing.”

 

“No.  I get it.”

 

“Do you really?”

 

“You gonna re-sign when it’s up?”  
  


“No. Let Matt deal with it.  Too much paperwork then.  Would have cost me a fortune to break the lease.  I’m not keeping it so I can escape.”

 

“So it’s good.”

 

Justin spun his chair around to face Brian. “You know this is where I want to be right?”

 

Brian nodded.

 

“It is.  I know I’ve been a pain in the ass lately.”

 

“Lately?”  
  


“Okay forever, but lately I think it’s been more pronounced.”

 

“Brain damage.”

 

“Actually on this one, yeah.  I’m pissed off I can’t get this fucking thing to work.”

 

“You will.”

 

“Maybe.  And maybe it’s time I just figure out what to do if I never can.”

 

“Not time for that yet.”

 

“But eventually I’m gonna have to figure it out.”

 

“Eventually _we_ might have to figure it out.”

 

“When we get back I’m gonna start taking clients again.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“Sure I need an income?  Pretty fucking sure.”

 

“Not what I meant.”

 

“I can do most of the work with my left hand, and then there’s entering the numbers instead of digitally moving the stuff with a mouse.  I think I can still do a few space designs.  The graphics thing is totally out 'til I get control back.”

 

“I know.”

 

“HikeNow was very nice. They thanked me for all my work.  Then the told me about the new graphics firm they hired.”

 

“Fuck.  When did that happen?”  
  


“Got the letter yesterday.”

 

“That’s bullshit.”

 

“It’s reality.  I can pretend I’m so booked that I’m worth the wait to the pretentious assholes who want their lofts redesigned but businesses don’t give a shit about that.”

 

“We’re supposed to meet Aaron, Lee and Matt for dinner.  We gonna tell him then?”

 

“You’re changing the subject.”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Why?’

 

“Because I’m tired of talking about your poor little gimp arm.”

 

Justin actually physically pulled back. He looked up at Brian and saw that fucking eyebrow quirk and the stupid smirk and hit him.  “Don’t do that.”

 

“What?”

 

“Act like a shit.”

 

“Me?”

 

“You.”

 

“You don’t think I usually act like an asshole?”

 

“Not so much anymore.”

 

“Really?”

 

Justin seemed to think about it.  “Hmmm.  Really.  Wow, that’s kind of weird.”

 

“It is.”

 

“I mean, I throws me know when you revert to selfish asshole mode.”

 

“Good thing you’re not beyond that stage.”

 

Justin looked at him again and laughed.  “So what the fuck is up?  Why are you being so nice to me?”  
  


“I’m not.  You think I am because you have brain damage.”

 

“Whatever.  When are we meeting them?”

 

“About an hour.”

 

Justin raised his eyebrows and Brian smiled.  Justin’s desk was significantly less organized.  Papers where everywhere and they were both trying to find their clothes and running late to meet Aaron for dinner when the phone rang.

 

“Yours.  Not my ring.”

 

Brian found his pants and the phone in his pocket.  “Kinney.” There was a pause.

 

“No.  Shut up.  Not now. Busy. Fuck off.  Don’t care.  Goodbye.”

 

Justin wall pulling on his shirt.  “Michael.”

 

“He must borrow every cell phone he can get his hands on.  I block his number.”

 

“At least Ted learned his lesson.”

 

“Yeah, some lesson.  I had to buy him a new phone and have all his business cards changed.”

 

“But he won't lend it to Michael anymore.”

 

“Good.”

 

“You know…”

 

“No I don’t.  And I don’t want to hear it from you.  I don’t have to deal with him.”

 

“Does he know you’re leaving?”  
  


“I don’t know what Ted tells him.”

 

“Does he know Gus is coming for the summer?”

 

“Probably.  Mel and he are back to getting along for the sake of the children.”  Brian’s expression made clear what he thought of the concept.

 

“Well, we’re getting out of here… so that should make things easier.”

 

“Because he won’t call?”

 

“Because it will be easier to distract you when he does.”

 

“I don’t need to be distracted.”

 

“Okay.” Justin knew Brian was trying to seem more okay with this than he was.  At first cutting Michael out of his life made sense.  But Justin, Michael, hell, everyone, assumed this would be just a part of the Brian and Michael show.  They’d not speak.  They’d speak about something non-related.  They’d speak.  It would blow over.

 

Michael was trying to force the issue and that made Brian retreat.  Justin was still sometimes taken off guard by how little Michael seemed to understand about Brian.  If Michael had stopped trying… Brian might have talked to him months ago.  But now Brian had dug in his heels.

 

Justin shook his head and grabbed his jacket.  Nothing he could or would do about it.  Brian had to deal with Michael on his own or it wouldn’t work.  

 

They left to meet Aaron and the rest for dinner.

 

Lee and Aaron were still on again apparently.  Becca was staring at them, clearly trying to dissect their relationship.  Justin was glad that he and Brian were off her radar for the moment. 

 

Matt smiled and clapped Justin on the back and he knew he wanted something.  He sat down. 

 

“What?”

 

“What?”  Matt looked confused.

 

“You want something.”

 

“I can’t just say hi?”

 

“Sometimes.  But that was not one of those causal things. Last time you were that effusive you had to get a new computer and needed me to help cover rent.”

 

“It’s nothing big.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Someone’s joining us for dinner.”

 

“So?”

 

“You know him.”

 

“I do?” Justin felt Brian tense next to him.  “Who?”

 

“This is totally my fault.”  Matt started.  “I was talking to some guys, a couple of writers and a couple of their boyfriends or girlfriends or whatever.”

 

Justin nodded, waiting.

 

“And well your name came up.”

 

“Why?”  
  


“We were talking about stuff.  Making a living.  Rage.  The fact that you were my old roommate.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“And turns out he knows you.”

 

“How?”

 

“Um, you used to date him?”

 

“WHAT?  You invited him?  He’s so boring.  And we weren’t dating.”

 

“No.  Not him. Um, you dated him in Pittsburgh.”

 

Justin looked at him oddly.  “I never dated ANYONE in Pittsburgh.” He turned his attention to Brian.  “We didn’t even date in Pittsburgh.”

 

Brian was apparently one step ahead of Justin.  “Ethan.”

 

“Fuck.”

 

“That’s him. He’s um.  He’s a nice guy.”

 

“No he isn’t.”

 

“But…”

 

“We’re leaving.”

 

Brian put a hand on Justin’s knee and smiled, it was not a friendly grin.  “Let’s stay.”

 

“Brian.”

 

“Let’s stay.  We can make sure Aaron knows when to water the plants and see how Ian’s been doing since you ditched his ass.”

 

“I didn’t…  okay, maybe I did a little but he totally deserved it.”

 

Brian nodded. “I’m sure he did.”

 

“He did.”

 

“Don’t pout.”

 

“Why do I have to know when to water your plants? You don’t have any plants.  What the fuck are you two talking about?”

 

Justin sighed.  “We’re going away for a couple of weeks.  Don’t throw a party.  Don’t fuck anything up.  We’re telling you so you don’t call the cops when you can’t find us.”

 

Aaron smiled widely.  Can I spend the night?  You know, to make sure no one breaks in?”

 

“Fuck anyone in my bed and I’ll kill you.”

 

“Fuck anyone in my kid’s bed and _I’ll_ kill you.”

 

Aaron pouted.  All that great space, empty.  No parties, no fucking in either bed. What’s the point?” he slumped down and Lee put an arm around his shoulders… he whispered something in his ear.  Aaron smiled and Justin leaned his head against Brian’s shoulder… “Fuck.”

 

Brian smiled.  “That seems to be their plan.”

 

Brian was on Justin’s right.  He took his gimp hand and held it. Justin let his four good fingers slide between Brian's.  He knew it was sappy, but right now, he’d rather look sappy than gimpy, especially with Ethan coming.  His stomach lurched again and he looked over at Brian.  He was pretending to be excited about the concept.  Justin knew Brian, he was also on edge.  Fuck. They really needed this vacation.

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

 

They were all watching Brian and Justin pretend not to be rattled by the new addition to their table.  Matt looked over at Justin and offered a small apologetic smile.  Justin looked away. He wasn’t ready to forgive Matt just yet.

 

Ethan made small talk, smarmed most of the people at the table and then turned his attention fully to Justin.  “It’s been a long time.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I heard you two were back together.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You don’t want me here.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Brian laughed then.  “So what the fuck are you doing here?”

 

“I was curious.”

 

Brian tilted his head a bit and stared at him disconcertingly.  “Curious.”

 

Ethan visibly paled under the scrutiny.  “Don’t you ever get curious about what your old flames are up to?”

 

Justin laughed this time.  “He doesn’t have old flames.”  He didn’t add the last part of his thought, _you greasy moron._

 

The dinner went on.  Conversation stilted and awkward.  Ethan tried to draw Justin out.  Tried to rekindle some fond memories.  Justin wasn’t really in the mood for any of it.  He ate quietly.  He never really moved his right arm to the table and he was painfully aware of it. Ethan, apparently getting the concept of unwanted, left quickly after their entrées, claiming a previous engagement.  When he left the table erupted in chatter.  

 

“What the fuck was that about?

 

“I thought you were over him.”

 

“There was no way to get out of it, he invited himself.”

 

“Jesus Brian, why didn’t you just punch him?”

 

They were all speaking at once.  Brian answered Aaron’s question first.  “I didn’t have to punch him.  I’m pretty sure he got the message.”

 

Aaron nodded and Justin turned his attention to Lee, Matt and Becca, addressing them all at once.  “I get that he’s good at insinuating himself.  And it’s not much of an issue, and eventually Matt, I will forgive you but just fucking drop it.  He’s an asshole, and a mistake and I just could have used a little warning.”

 

“I only saw him this afternoon.”  Matt offered defensively.

 

“Yeah well, my phone works.”

 

Matt nodded.  “Sorry.”

 

“Sorry’s bullshit. Just… just don’t fucking do it again.”

 

“Again?  How many ex lovers do you have?”

 

Justin shrugged. “Depends on how you categorize.  Thousands, or just him.”

 

“You know, you two seem like if you could get past whatever the issue was, you might be friends.”

 

Justin stared at Becca incredulously.  “Friends?  With a lying bastard?  Not really looking for more friends.  Hell, with friends like you guys…”

 

Lee interrupted.  “You know, no one meant anything by it.”

 

“No one thought it was a stupid idea?”  Brian picked up the thread of the conversation while Justin put his head in his hand and closed his eyes for a minute.  

 

“We just thought…”

 

Justin’s head popped up.  “We?  Lee, you knew?” he turned his head to Becca and then glared sharply at Aaron.  “What the fuck was this _really_ about?”

 

“It’s just… you never come out anymore.  You um, we thought, um… maybe someone who knew you and well, um…” Justin watched Aaron stutter through his excuse and then shook his head.

 

“You thought that because he knew me when my hand was still gimpy I’d be okay with him seeing me now.”

 

Becca and Lee nodded and Justin sighed.  “I’m leaving.  I’m not that mad, but I’m leaving.  And next time.  Don’t even think you know how to help me.  You don’t.”

 

He stood up and Brian dropped some cash on the table and followed him outside.  When they were out of view of the restaurant Brian pulled him into a narrow alley between two buildings.  Brian’s hands were running through his hair and his breath was hot on his face. He felt the slight stubble as he whispered into his ear.  “They’re fucking morons.  They don’t know shit.”

 

“Neither did Ethan.  My hand was mostly better by then.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I never let him see when it fucked up.”

 

“I figured.”

 

“Now he’s gonna think I’m upset because he rattled me.”

 

“He did.”  Brian's hands were sliding up Justin’s back under his jacket now.  His mouth was still against his ear. His tongue was tracing the curve of it.  

 

“He didn’t rattle me.  Not the way you think.”

 

“You want him to think you’re an incredibly successful artist living with your really hot boyfriend, in the life you two imagined for yourselves.  You don’t want him to think you’re in any way damaged.”

 

“Okay, so maybe the way you think.”

 

“I’m not threatened, Justin.”

 

“You sure?”  
  


“By him?  You were done with him the minute you walked out.”

 

“No, it was way before that.”  Justin’s breathing was huskier as Brian ground against him and continued to use his tongue against his ear.

 

“Doesn’t matter.  You’re done with him now.  Your friends are assholes.”

 

“So are yours.”

 

“We both have a talent for that.”

 

“We do.”

 

Brian’s hand was now flat against Justin's stomach under his shirt.  His fingers were insinuating themselves under the waistband of his pants and Justin gasped when his hand grasped his hard cock.  “We have other talents too.”

 

Justin leaned his head back against the brick and let out a small moan.  Brian’s hand moved slowly.  Justin’s left arm was palming Brian’s cock over his pants and he felt Brian lean into the movements.  “Fuck me here.”

 

Brian pulled his hand away and Justin felt the move to his shoulders and turn him around.  He heard the sounds of the street just a few feet away.  Cars whizzing by, horns blaring, the faint sound of a distant siren.  There were people chatting and the click of high heels against pavement and then all the sound became just a single buzzing background noise as the cold night air hit his ass and Brian’s hot fingers pushed the frigid lube inside him.

 

He leaned his forehead against the brick now and pushed against Brian’s hand, trying to take more of him inside.  Brian accommodated and he felt the familiar stretch.  The movements that were so comfortable and so arousing.  He felt the fingers withdraw and knew the heart stopping agony of those moments of emptiness.  

 

Brian’s was inside him in seconds.  His entire body trapped against the wall by the heat and the weight of his larger frame. He felt an arm reach up to meet his against the wall and knew Brian’s coat was creating a flimsy cashmere barrier between this moment of intimacy and the entire population of New York.  The thought made him harder and he bit his lip against making any sound.

 

Brian's hands were on either side of his head now.  He felt the long strong elegant fingers brush against his lips and he understood.  Brian wanted to hear him. He stopped biting his lip.  He let himself go, moaning against the wall.  He pushed his body back against Brian’s and let the hum of the city, so close, set their rhythm.  Brian moved inside him. His hips snapping against his ass, his cock wide and long and perfect as it stroked more than just his prostate.  

 

Justin could feel it.  Feel it inside him, as if it was his heart and his stupid damaged brain and his useless arm that Brian was slowly stroking from the inside.  He wanted him.  Brian wanted him.  Broken, whole, stupid, smart, rational, insane, it didn’t matter.  Brian loved all of it.  Brian wanted all of it.  And for Justin that was more than enough.  It was more important than fucking Ethan thinking he might not be whole.  More important than his friends not understanding how deep this damage was cutting him.

 

All that mattered was that Brian still wanted him, here, against a wall, a few blocks from a warm bed with million thread count sheets.  He wanted him NOW.

 

Justin heard Brian say the words and he came, hard, Brian doing so at the same time.  He felt those same strong gentle hands around his waist now, holding him up.  It was good.  His knees were a little rubbery. His body was a little boneless.  His head was a little fuzzy.  It was all-okay.  Brian wanted him.  Brian loved him.

 

They clumsily got their clothes straitened and fastened and walked back home.  Brian held Justin's right hand the entire time and Justin felt whole.  

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

 

Justin was sitting on the bed watching Brian pack and directing him.  He’d tried packing on his own but Brian kept coming in and refolding everything until Justin had given up and just allowed Brian to do it.  Justin held ultimate veto power over his own wardrobe but it wasn’t much of an issue.  Brian liked most of his clothes now.

 

Brian watched Justin watching him and grimaced.  Kid thought he was fucking smart, packing like a brain-damaged gimp until Brian was forced to take over.  Now he sat on the bed imperiously approving some choices and discarding others with a crinkle of his nose and a shake of his head.  Brian sighed and folded the sweater that had been approved.  

 

“You know, folding is probably good physical therapy.”

 

“That would actually be categorized as occupational therapy.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah, folding, how to hold a fork again, all that bullshit.  The PT is just stuff that builds the muscles. The OT is how to get around with the newly deformed arm.”

 

Brian bent down and kissed him before putting the sweater in his suitcase.  “You’re not deformed.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

“So fucking, is that physical therapy or occupational?”

 

Justin smiled.  “I think technically it’s occupational therapy.”  His smile faded as he stared at his thumb.  “That’s a good thing too, because that may soon become my only source of income.”

 

“You planning on selling your ass on the street?”

 

Justin reached his good arm up and stretched.  “Actually I was thinking of becoming a high priced ‘escort’.”

 

“Let me know, I’d like to book a few events.”

 

“You’d hire me?”

 

Brian shrugged.  “You’re not bad.  I’d fuck you.”

 

“You already have, twice, today.”

 

“And your right arm is moving.”

 

“That’s just a twitch.”

 

“Because things are healing, so hold off on the escort service.”

 

“For a month.  Then I’m putting my money were my mouth is, or actually vice versa.”

 

“Yeah, that should be fun.  You gonna turn the studio into a little private space for you and your clients?”

 

“Might as well use it for something.”

 

Brian turned around holding out two shirts.  Justin seemed to consider them both carefully and then nodded.  Brian put them both in the suitcase.  “You’ll use the studio again.”

 

“Yeah, once it’s all done up in early modern whore.  Wonder if it’ll be mostly creepy old men.  Probably huh?”

 

“Cut it out.”

 

“I’m just…”

 

“Yeah, kidding, I know.  You’ll paint again.  It’s only been three weeks.”

 

“That’s a long time.”

 

“When you’re five.”

 

“Are you calling me five?”

 

“No, I’m calling you a twat.”

 

“Sorry I can’t heal on your time table.”

 

“It’s your timetable that we’re working against.”

 

“I need to get back to work.”

 

“And in two weeks, when we’re home, you will.”

 

“But what if I don’t have any clients left.”

 

“Then you’re rabid fan base must be pretty fickle. Your fucking phone never stops ringing.”

 

“But what if I can’t do it?”

 

“You’ll figure out a way to do it.”

 

“This sucks.”

 

“You’ve said.”

 

“Don’t pack those pants. I hate them.”

 

Brian ignored him and folded them carefully.  “You look hot in them.”

 

“Brian.”

 

“Like you’re gonna have to carry your own bags.  We’ll have bellmen and you’ve got a gimp hand.  Don’t bitch about bringing one extra pair of pants.  Besides, if you want to start your new lucrative career as a rent boy, what better place to start than Amsterdam?”

 

“You’re evil.”

 

“No shit.”

 

“Aaron’s gonna have a party.”

 

“No shit.”

 

“My thumb’s gone forever.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

“Daph’s gonna be mad I didn’t tell her.”

 

“Well, yeah.”

 

“Should I have?”

 

“Your hag. Your call.”

 

“Am I a bad friend?”

 

“No.”

 

“How can you be so sure?”

  “Michael.  I _know_ what a bad friend is.” 

Justin nodded and Brian grabbed a dozen pairs of socks and carefully arranged them inside Justin’s bag.  

 

“You’re a freak about packing.”

 

“You’re a freak about everything else.”

 

“Brian.”

 

“Hmmm.”

 

“Zip up the bag.”  
  


“Why?”  Brian looked up and saw the desire in Justin’s expression. He zipped the suitcase and laid it carefully on the floor.  Then he dropped his jeans and crawled over Justin’s body.  “What did you have in mind?”

 

Justin was making small circles on Brian’s shoulder.  Brian was on his knees, his mouth inches from Justin.  “Tell me what you want.”

 

Justin shook his head and Brian pulled him down from his sitting position until he was flat on his back against the mattress.  “Then I’m just gonna take what I want.”

 

Justin smiled and nodded.  The ended up finishing their packing in a hurry the next morning before they headed towards the airport.

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

 

The flight was long and boring.  First class was better than coach but it still meant eight hours cooped up in a plane with fawning flight attendants and never enough room to stretch out.  They were both in bad moods by the time the got their luggage.

 

Remson had sent a car and neither of them spoke on the way to the hotel.  When they were finally settled it, once Brian had meticulously unpacked everything and Justin had watched with minimal comment Brian collapsed on the bed.  “I fucking hate traveling.”

 

“No you don’t.”

 

“I hate unpacking for twats who don’t see the need.”

 

“I didn’t ask you to unpack for me.  You insisted.”

 

“You can’t iron with your left hand.”

 

“Pfft.  Ironing.”

 

“Christ, I really thought I raised you better than that.”

 

“I really thought you were over the whole ‘Justin’s a slob’ thing.”

 

“I thought you were over being a slob.”

 

“I never was a slob, it’s just no one is as bizarrely OCD about cleanliness as you.”

 

“Don’t like things messy.”

 

“So what are you doing with me?”

 

Brian turned to look at him.  “Fuck you.”

 

“Joke.”

 

“Stop it.”

 

“I was just…”

 

Brian moved Justin's hand away from scratching at his forearm and took his right fingers into his own, massaging them gently.  “You were just doing a self pity thing because you’re tired and your hand hurts.”

 

“It’s not that bad.”

 

“Uh huh.”  Brian squeezed at the base of his index finger and Justin winced. “Eight hours of fucking with your hand will do that.   Headache?”

 

Justin nodded and Brian grabbed the bottle of pills from the compartment of his suitcase and handed Justin one. 

 

“Two.”

 

Brian shrugged and handed him another.  Justin swallowed it dry and lay down.  “Sorry.”

 

“It’s all your fault.”

 

“What time’s your meeting tomorrow?”

 

“Not 'til noon.”

 

“What time is it now?”

 

“Midnight here.”

 

“That’s why I’m so tired.”

 

“It’s only six, Eastern standard.”

 

“That’s why I’m so tired.”

 

Brian laughed and threw a pillow over Justin’s head.  Sleep.  One of us should get on schedule.”

 

“You sleep too.”

 

“Work to do.”

 

“Pfft.”

 

“Suing.”

 

“You finished everything two days ago.”

 

“Not fucking tired.”

 

Justin held up his bottle of meds.  “Want one?”

 

“Got my own.”

 

“Going out?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“See you tomorrow.”

 

Brian kissed his forehead and turned on his computer.  He wasn’t going out. Not with Justin nursing a migraine in a strange city without the full use of his hand.   

 

He stared at the screen for a while, gave up, took a couple of Xanex, set the alarm and slid beneath the covers.  He’d figure out how to tell Justin about their appointment after the Remson meeting.

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

 

When Justin woke up Brian was already dressed.  “Is it noon?”

 

“No.  But they wanted to give me a fucking tour or something.  I’ll be back this afternoon.  Go out.”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“There’s a bunch of brochures they sent up.  Some museums, some shopping. Might do you good.”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“No one notices.”

 

“No one’s rude enough to say anything.  These are Germans, not known for being polite.”

 

Brian rolled his eyes.  “Do whatever you want.”

 

“Don’t I always?”

 

The tour was boring.  Brian didn’t need to see their immaculate and efficient manufacturing plant to sell this shit but he did need the account so he smiled and followed around the two reps who were assigned to him.  When he finally got to the pitch meeting he was relieved.  Now he was in his element.

 

They bought most of it, requested a few minor changes and he got back to the hotel.  Justin was still in bed.  “Get up.”

 

“I was waiting for you.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Thought you might want to shower with me.”

 

Brian smiled and disappeared into the bathroom.  Justin joined him and as they walked out of the hotel together Brian felt the spring in Justin’s step.  Fuck.  Now was a bad time to tell him.

 

They ended up eating dinner at some place one of the Remson rep’s had recommended and then found a club.  They were dancing.  The beer was dark and the drinks were not watered down.  The music had a strong beat and Justin was smiling.  Brian pulled him closer.  “Ready to go home?”

 

Justin shook his head and smiled wider.  “Dance with me more.”

 

Brian obliged and by the time they did get back to the hotel they were both too far gone to do anything more interesting than pass out.

 

When the alarm went off at what the clock claimed to be nine in the morning Brian cursed.  He never had gotten around to telling Justin.  He kissed his temple.  The kid didn’t move.

 

He shook him.  

 

Justin grunted and pushed Brian away.

 

“Get the fuck up we have an appointment.”

 

“Mmppfhhfph”

 

“Get up.”

 

“An appointment?”  It was muffled by the pillow Justin was holding over his head.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“We?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“We have an appointment.”

 

“Very good.  You got the whole sentence together.”

 

“Where?”

 

“About a half hour cab ride.”

 

“I mean why?”

 

“Because this was the only time he could see us.”

 

“Brian.”

 

“What?”

 

“You’re being dense on purpose.”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“What kind of appointment.”

 

Brian stood up, out of Justin’s reach. He really wasn’t looking to get punched.  “With a doctor.”

 

Justin sat straight up. “Are you sick?”

 

Brian rolled his eyes.  “For you.”

 

“Am I sick?”

 

“Brain damage.”

 

“We had that fixed.”

 

“This guy has a new take on it.”

 

“On what.”

 

“How to get your neurons firing in sync.”

 

Justin flopped back down and pulled the pillow over his head again.  “More PT.  Fuck that.”

 

“Not PT.”

 

“What?”

 

“It’s complicated.”

 

“Like us?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“I’ve got enough complications.”

 

“Stop being a twat and get up.”

 

“Brian.”

 

“Get up.”

 

Justin was pouting but he was dressed and in the cab.  Brian breathed a sigh, but not quiet of relief, this wasn’t over yet.

 

When they pulled up to the doctor’s office Brian held his breath again but Justin seemed resigned to his fate.

 

They sat in the waiting room and Brian handed Justin a piece of paper. He watched him read it and then met his questioning glance.

 

“Are you insane?”

 

“I didn’t say you should do it.”

 

“You want them to connect a computer receptor to my brain.”

 

“Sort of.”

 

“So that my fingers will respond.”

 

“And your arm.”

 

“Because you really don’t think I’m going to get any better.”

 

“That’s not why.”

 

“Then why?”

 

“Because you don’t think you’re gonna get any better.”

 

“Brian.”

 

“What?”

 

“This is bullshit.”

 

“He’s had a lot of success.”

 

“Where did you hear about this?”

 

“Some Remson guy.”

 

“You talked about me to a client?”

 

“Didn’t now we have a confidentiality clause.”

 

“We do.”

 

“We can leave.”

 

“I’ll get better.”

 

“I know that.”

 

“I’m not having more surgery.”

 

“This is micro surgery.”

 

“On my brain.”

 

“Only a little, they go in through the shoulder.”

 

“Micro brain surgery on my shoulder and I’m the one who’s insane.”

 

“Wanna leave?”

 

“No.”  Justin ran his left hand through his hair.  We’re here.”

 

Brian nodded and they sat silently.  They both listened to what the doctor said and Justin shot Brian murderous looks as the doctor held up the films of his most recent CT scan as well as those from before the surgery.

 

Brian shrugged and gave his best “don’t hate me” smile.  It wasn’t working.

  When they left they didn’t go back to the hotel.  Justin insisted on visiting a museum and not one about the fucking war please, was his only request.   They were wandering around the [](</font)<http://www.historisches-museum.frankfurt.de/allgemeine_informationen.htm>> Historiches Museum Justin was drawn in by the art but his mind couldn’t stop going over what the doctor had told him. 

Brian watched him and knew Justin was thinking.  He’d come to a decision and let Brian know what it was. Brian wasn’t sure what he was hoping for.  Several hours later the museum was closing and Justin reluctantly left, he kept walking and Brian followed.  After a few blocks he held out his hand and Brian took it, relieved.

 

They ducked into a small restaurant.  Once they’d ordered and started on their beers Justin spoke.

 

“Not yet.  I don’t think I need it.  If I’m still not better by this time next year, then yeah.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“That’s it?”

 

“Your arm.”

 

“But…”

 

“You want me to talk you into it?”

 

“You went to all this effort.”

 

“For you to know you had options.”

 

“And now I do.”

 

“I think you’re right.  It’s been less than a month.  This time after the bashing you were still in the fucking hospital.”

 

“That museum rocked.”

 

“You’re a sucker for stuff like that.”

 

Justin took a long swallow from his beer.  “For art? Um, duh.”

 

“So when do we leave and get some lovely legal drugs?”

 

“Soon.  You sure about…”

 

“I’m sure about everything.”

 

“Liar.”

 

“I’m sure about this.”

 

“Okay then.”

 

They were headed back to the hotel when Justin stopped dead in his tracks.

 

“What?”

 

“Look.”

 

“What?”

 

Justin was staring at his hand.  His thumb was curled in.  He flexed his fingers and his thumb actually responded.  Slowly, hesitantly, but all five of Justin’s fingers were operating together.  His smile was brighter than Brian had seen it in a while.

 

“Told you.”

 

“No you didn’t.”

 

“Yes I did.”

 

“Shut up and kiss me.”

 

Brian stepped forward and kissed him in the middle of the street, three blocks from their hotel.  They raced to the room and Justin pushed Brian down on the bed using the somewhat sporadic dexterity in his hand to remove Brian's clothes and then his own.  “I got my thumb back.”

 

“Apparently the fear of more surgery was just what the doctor ordered.”

 

Justin was straddling Brian and he pulled up from kissing his shoulder to look at him. “Is that why you did this?”

 

Brian smiled.  “I’ll never tell.”

 

Justin smacked his good hand against Brian’s chest.  “It’s not the hiccups.  You can’t just yell ‘boo’ at it.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“You are so dead.”

 

“Well, you can strangle me now.”

 

“Not in my plans.”

 

Brian raised an eyebrow.  “What are your plans?”

 

Justin didn’t say another word.  He backed himself off Brian never breaking eye contact.  “Roll over.”

 

“Don’t you want me to fuck you better?”

 

“Roll over.”

 

Brian stopped smirking and scrutinized Justin’s expression for a moment.  Then he rolled over and Justin’s smile was so fucking wide, and evil, and feral, and hot, that Brian could feel it boring into him even before he felt Justin’s fingers actually boring into him.

 

He moaned then.  

 

Sometimes he fought the urge to allow this, or accept it, or whatever.  Sometimes he remained steadfastly determined not to let Justin know how much he wanted and hell, even needed this.  This was not one of those times.  He raised himself up a bit and felt Justin’s tongue probing at his already open hole.  Felt Justin’s hands spread him wide as his body bucked back looking for more than the gentle and yet somehow demanding strokes of Justin’s tongue inside him.

 

He groaned into the pillow and let out a long breath of relief.  He hadn’t taken Justin to the doctor to scare him. He really had wanted to give him options, but maybe he didn’t need them.  Maybe he was going to be fine all on his own.  He felt a thick digit enter him.  It slid easily, Justin’s tongue had lubed him pretty fucking well and he spread his knees apart and let the kid drive.

 

He might not be trying to hold back his appreciation but he couldn’t help being demanding… he started to growl and felt Justin’s hands and mouth move higher to the small of his back.  He reached for Justin, any part of him.  He wanted to pull him forward. Pull him up until his wide cock was where it needed to be…inside of him.

 

He felt Justin’s arm twist out of his grip and dropped his head.  The kid was in a teasing mood.  His body was on fire.  He wasn’t sure how long he could last the way Justin’s mouth was working slowly back down the crack of his ass and then licking his balls.  He pressed hard with his tongue against the area between his balls and hole and Brian heard himself almost whimper.  He didn’t care.

 

He’d beg if he had to but the kid better fuck him soon.  

 

He hugged the pillow to him and tried to move a little more, to angle himself better but he felt those deft little fingers holding him still and he obeyed.  He let his mind focus on the feelings and not on the concept of his obeying.  He tried to be patient but the kid was taking for fucking ever to get to it.

 

“Fucking fuck me before I flip you over and stop this.”

 

“Pfft.”

 

“Suing them right after I fuck you.”

 

“Some asshole told me once that patience is a virtue.”

 

“Don’t listen to ashholes and I’m not that virtuous.”

 

“And yet you’ll be patient.”  

 

Brian felt a light smack on his ass and he turned his head sharply.  “Justin.”

 

He caught Justin’s playful expression and dropped his head again.  “Justin.”  This time it was a moan.

 

Justin continued to torment him.  Slowly sliding a thumb, his new, improved, functional thumb in and out of him while he landed a few slaps to his ass.  

 

Brian’s body was soaked in sweat and actually shaking with need by the time Justin slid his cock along the crack of his ass.   Still teasing.  Poking slowly at the entrance and then pulling back without any actual penetration.  Brian wasn’t sure what he was saying, what he was sure of was that he was damn glad that it could not be recorded for posterity.

 

When Justin pushed into him, stretching him out with the wide head of his cock Brian tried to push back, to take all of him but Justin was using tricks that Brian knew, he had taught him, and stayed perfectly still, keeping him stretched.  Letting him feel the burn and the pain and the heat of need and pleasure that melded together.  He felt another hard slap land on his ass as Justin pushed in entirely. 

 

He grunted then and felt Justin wait.  Brian was more than ready and he pushed back quickly.  Justin’s hand was stroking down his back and he was pistoning in and out of him in long smooth strokes.  He twisted his hips and hit Brian’s prostate, landing a hard slap at the same time and Brian fought back his impending orgasm.  He wanted more. He wanted this to last and Justin seemed to sense it.

 

He felt him slow down; felt him almost stop completely, stroking him lightly.  One hand resting on his ass, one hand sliding along his side.  He felt his body relax a little, felt himself back away from the precipice and then felt Justin begin again.

 

It went on like that.  Brian had no idea for how long or how many times he almost came before Justin stopped.  All he knew was that he was literally begging for release by the time Justin’s husky voice blew across his hear.  Justin’s chin was resting on his shoulder blade and his breath was hot. 

 

“Come for me Brian.  Please.  Come for me.”

 

Brian almost thanked him but he bit back the words as Justin increased the rhythm and they both came together.  

 

When they were on their backs, cigarette passed between them and their hearts back to something resembling a normal rhythm Justin spoke first.  

 

“Couple more nights like this and my arm might work.”

 

Brian exhaled the smoke and tried not to laugh.  “Couple more nights like this and you’ll have killed me.”

 

Justin smiled.  “You’ll die happy.”

 

“No shit.”

 

He leaned over and kissed the corner of Justin’s mouth, stubbed out the cigarette and was asleep moments after he closed his eyes.

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~

 

Justin didn’t fall asleep as quickly.  He searched through Brian’s bag for what he knew was hidden there.  When he found it he pulled a chair up to the table by the window.  He took a deep breath and using his left hand to steady the sketchpad, he gripped the pencil and attempted to draw something for the first time since that night in San Francisco when he’d sketched Brian.  He had been sure then it was the last time he’d be able to do it.  He was more hopeful now


	15. Chapter 15

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

**Keeping It Together**

**Chapter Fifteen**

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

When Justin woke up Brian was sitting at the table staring at the half finished sketch. He’d been so tired he hadn’t bothered to put it away. He’d just crashed. He caught Brian’s eye.

 

“You’re drawing again.”

 

“Got inspired last night.” Justin couldn’t keep himself from smiling. 

 

Brian nodded. “I can see that. It’s not bad.”

 

“It’s crap. But I’ll get the control back.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Helps to have a thumb.”

 

“Still have it today?”

 

Justin sat up and stretched his fingers out experimentally. His thumb responded as he concentrated on moving it towards his index finger and back again. “Looks like.”

 

Now they were both smiling. “It’s a shame there’s no need for that computer chip though. Would be kind of cool to live with a cyborg.”

 

“Better than living with a brain damaged twat.”

 

“I seem to have a thing for brain damaged twats.”

 

“I’ve noticed.”

 

“We’ll get some better supplies in Amsterdam.” Brian said as he put the sketchbook back on the table.

 

“No need. Pencil’s all I can handle right now.”

 

“Shower?”

 

“Absolutely.”

 

“We’ve got to catch a train in a couple hours.”

 

When they were both clean, and sated, and dressed they checked out of the hotel and caught a cab. Justin tried not to seem impressed at the Amsterdam accommodations but he couldn’t help himself. His grin was wide as they made their way to the bedroom. “I think I like this place.”

 

“You think?” Brian stepped forward kissing him. “For what we’re paying, you’d better love it.”

 

“So money equals love?”

 

Brian groaned. “Not having this discussion.”

 

“Kidding.”

 

“Lost my sense of humor about it.”

 

“When?”

 

“Somewhere between sugardaddyclubfreakchildmolester and you thinking of yourself as the little woman.”

 

“Pfft. Never was the little woman. Your whore maybe.”

 

“Suing, seriously. And you’re the most expensive whore ever, and you’re terrible at it.”

 

Justin smacked Brian’s arm and took a step backwards. “Terrible?” He raised an eyebrow.

 

“Not at fucking. The whole point of paying someone for sex is that you don’t have to listen to them pontificate on the merits of biodegradable packaging or watch them scream at C-span during congressional votes.”

 

“Good point. So as long as you listen to me yell at the TV I’m not your whore?”

 

Brian rolled his eyes. “You were never…”

 

“Christ, Brian, I was joking.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

“Tell me something.”

 

“What?”

 

“What the fuck are we arguing about?”

 

“Not a goddamned clue.”

 

“Is that a huge soft bed or am I delusional?”

 

“Both.”

 

“Well then let’s just pretend to fuck.”

 

“Let’s actually fuck and pretend we’re pretending.” 

 

Justin laughed. “You haven’t even gotten stoned yet and you’re not making sense.”

 

Brian walked him backwards towards the bed. “I’m turning your brain off.”

 

“Okay.”

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

 

They had dinner on the patio and then walked around the city. “You can let go of my hand.”

 

Brian let Justin’s hand drop. 

 

“I didn’t say you had to.”

 

“Justin.”

 

“What?”

 

“What the fuck is up?”

 

“Huh?’

 

“Yeah, play stupid. That works.”

 

“Nothing’s up. You hate holding hands.”

 

“I do?”

 

“Don’t you?”

 

Brian shrugged as they walked. “Never really thought about it.”

 

“Bullshit. You think about everything.”

 

“That’s you.”

 

“That’s both of us.” Justin stopped walking to light a cigarette. Brian decided now was a good time to light one of his own. He pushed his lighter back into his pocket and exhaled. 

 

“What’s wrong? Other than the obvious.”

 

“The obvious.”

 

Brian inhaled deeply. He let out a long stream of smoke and tried again. “You’re fidgety. You’re telling me what I do and don’t do… and you’ve been wired all night.”

 

“I guess.”

 

“Okay.” Brian started walking again “let me know when you figure it out.”

 

“The doctor thing.” 

 

Brian stopped. _fuck; I thought I was in the clear on that one._ he turned to face Justin. “The doctor thing.”

 

“You know. Don’t pretend you don’t.”

 

“Yeah. I should have asked.”

 

“Yeah. You should have asked.”

 

“So now what?”

 

“Now what, what?”

 

“You gonna yell? We going to talk this to death? Is there a chance in hell you’ll just accept that I heard about the guy, made the appointment and didn’t get a chance to tell you?”

 

“You gonna do it again?”

 

“Probably.”

 

“What!”

 

“I fuck up like that. You want something. You need something…” Brian shrugged. “Instinct.”

 

“It’s instinct to release my personal medical information to other people without my consent?”

 

“He needed it.”

 

“You needed to do it.”

 

“You needed me to do it.”

 

“No I didn’t.”

 

“You sure?” Brian looked meaningfully at Justin’s hand, which was currently clenched in a fist. 

 

Justin followed Brian’s gaze. “It would have gotten better without scaring it.”

 

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

 

“You didn’t.”

 

“I scared your hand.”

 

“Whatever. Ask next time.”

 

“I did. You don’t remember me asking because you have brain damage.”

 

Justin laughed. “We’ll get this right eventually.”

 

Brian took his hand again. “Wasn’t aware we had it wrong now.”

 

“Things just need to be tweaked here and there.”

 

“Speaking of being tweaked…”

 

Justin smiled and they were both very very stoned by the time they stumbled back to the hotel.

 

The few days in Amsterdam were far more relaxing than their first evening. Justin spent hours in museums and then hours shopping with Brian. They left with an extra suitcase and the knowledge that Paris was going to require additional luggage. Justin had apparently let the doctor thing go. 

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

 

The hotel in Paris was luxurious but Brian was in work mode so there wasn’t much time to appreciate it. Justin spent his days in museums. Brian spent his days locked in meetings with Remson marketing representatives. By the time Remson was finally satisfied on Friday afternoon Brian was exhausted and Justin’s legs actually hurt from the amount of walking he’d done around the city and in the museums. They ordered room service. 

 

Brian was idly flipping through a few of the sketches Justin had done in the last few days. He’d invested in a set of pastels and while it was true that his control wasn’t back, his passion and inspiration obviously were. 

 

“These are good.”

 

“Not really, but they’re good therapy. My hand is getting stronger I think.”

 

Brian nodded. “I like this.”

 

“You should see the original.”

 

“Yeah, tomorrow I’m shopping, not looking at art.”

 

“But…”

 

Brian cocked and eyebrow and Justin smiled. “Yeah, shopping. It was worth a try.”

 

“If you think so.”

 

“I should get something for Daphne.”

 

“And the baby.”

 

“Oh yeah… her kid. Fuck. What do you get a kid who hasn’t been born?”

 

“How the fuck do I know?”

 

“Didn’t you get anything for Gus?”

 

“I gave my sperm so he could be born. Seemed like enough.”

 

“Well, since I’m not responsible for this infant’s existence, I guess the least I can do is buy him a blanket or something.”

 

“So we’ll find him something.”

 

“And Gus. We should probably buy him something too.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because that’s what you do when you go on vacation, you bring home shit for your kids.”

 

“Fuck. I owe Gus a snow globe.’

 

“Or ten, but who’s counting.”

 

“You apparently.”

 

“Brian. Gus is…”

 

Brian put the sketch he’d been staring out down. I know. He’s fine. He’ll be fine. I’ve got to get up there to see him though.”

 

“Go when we get back. Or fly right to Toronto.”

 

“Can’t. Have to get back to the office.”

 

“I can go see Daphne alone.”

 

“I’ll go next month.”

 

“He can come see us.”

 

“He’s got school.”

 

Justin noticed Brian’s sentences getting shorter. His expression getting darker. He shut up. He knew Brian had to be here on business but the last few days stopping to see Daphne were all about him and not Brian. He’d cancelled his plans to visit Gus when he was in San Francisco because of the doctor’s appointment. _fuck. He’s got to go soon, this is killing him._

 

Justin didn’t say another word about it as they ate dinner and watched a poorly dubbed version of gay as blazes that was airing as new. He wanted to finally get Brian to open up about the whole Michael thing but he’d tried so many times and failed. He was trying out opening gambits in his head when Brian interrupted his train of thought.

 

“Cut it out.”

 

“What?”

 

“You’re thinking, really loudly.”

 

“I’m just…”

 

“Trying to figure out how to get me to forgive Michael. How to tell me that you think it’s your fault I haven’t seen Gus since we moved.”

 

“No um…”

 

“Stop lying.”

 

“I am sorry.”

 

“Yeah, it’s all your fault. Fucking brain damage. That’s what you get for walking into a bat.”

 

Justin looked at Brian “when did you get a sense of humor about _that_?”

 

“I don’t but you playing martyr is particularly unattractive.”

 

“Now I’m unattractive AND brain damaged?”

 

Brian laughed. “That’s you. Retarded monkey boy.”

 

“So why are you still around?”

 

Brian stared at him, his head tilted, seemingly considering his answer. “Well, you still have a great ass, so if I gag you, and push your head into the pillow… yeah, there’s that.”

 

Justin laughed. “Finally an honest answer.”

 

Brian stood up and pulled Justin away from the food and into the other room towards the bed. “Are you gonna be quiet or do I have to gag you?”

 

Justin seemed to consider the question. “Gag me.”

 

Brian smirked pulled the tie that was hanging loosely around his neck completely off. He let it dangle from one finger and watched as Justin blushed. “You sure?”

 

Justin nodded and Brian did gag him. He then carefully, and slowly removed Justin’s clothes. The entire time he was whispering in a low voice against Justin’s ear.

 

“I’m not going to blindfold you. I know you want me to.”

 

Justin nodded and Brian kissed one of his eyelids. “Nope. I want to see your eyes when you come.”

 

Justin whimpered behind the tie and Brian’s hands tossed Justin’s shirt to the side and slowly traced a path to the waistband of his jeans. “You’re already hard.”

 

Justin nodded.

 

“You’re so sure I’m going to fuck you.” His voice was almost a growl against Justin’s ear.”

 

Justin nodded again

 

Brian pushed the jeans down to Justin’s ankles and moved forward, forcing Justin to step backwards and away from the crumpled ball of denim. “You want me to fuck you.”

 

Justin nodded again, rapidly.

 

Brian’s smile was predatory. “You want so much. Your dirty little mind is spinning with things you’re not allowed to ask for tonight.”

 

Justin’s head fell forward against Brian’s chest and Brian could feel him panting already. He pushed him back against the bed and Justin spread his arms out on either side waiting.

 

Brian grabbed a couple more ties and make sure Justin’s arms were secured to the bedposts before he crawled between Justin’s legs.

 

He was still fully clothed. Justin’s underwear was straining against his leaking cock. The tip was peeking out over the elastic of the waistband. 

 

Brian ran a finger slowly across the head and licked it. Justin writhed and bucked his body towards Brian's touch. Brian shook his head. “Don’t move.”

 

Justin tried to stop. It didn’t work. He rubbed his ass against the sheets, causing the cotton of his briefs to move against his throbbing cock. Brian watched for a minute and then pinched a nipple hard. “I said don’t move.”

 

Justin tried to hold still. Brian's hands were stroking Justin lightly. Tracing the line of his desire against his white briefs. Stroking the inside of his thighs, his waist, his hips, his knees. His hands splayed wide over Justin’s chest running up to his shoulders. 

 

Brian’s mouth was following his hands now. Kissing down his chest. Tracing the lean muscles of his abdomen. Teasingly licking at just the visible head of his hard-on. He put his mouth over the damp cotton and breathed more moist heat against him. 

 

He heard Justin gasp around his bound mouth and moved his own mouth to take Justin’s balls. Justin was arching his back, trying to wriggle his way out of his underwear, trying to gain more contact. Brian used one hand to lower him back to the bed.

 

He slowly pulled at the elastic waistband and removed the cotton barrier between Justin’s ass and his mouth. 

 

Justin’s legs were bent and his body was thrusting upwards. 

 

Brian pushed his thighs apart further and began a slow and torturous tease with his tongue. He nipped and nibbled and stroked between Justin’s cheeks but never probed into his hole. He watched for a moment as it almost involuntarily opened a little and then he spread his tongue flat against it.

 

Justin’s moans were deep and even the gag couldn’t silence him completely. Brian stopped. “You’re supposed to be quiet.” 

 

Justin nodded and tried to stop but each time Brian’s tongue seemed about to give him what he needed, and then retreated, he grunted in disappointment and need. 

 

Brian’s hands were holding him apart. Then they weren’t. He felt the sharp slap to the inside of his thigh and instinctively closed his legs.

 

Brian had taken off his jacket and was now standing over the bed taking of his shirt. “Open them, Justin.”

 

Justin’s eyes met Brian's and he spread his legs again. Brian laid another hard slap to the other thigh and Justin fought the desire to close his legs and protect himself. 

 

Brian's hands were stroking him again. He felt his thighs become damp as Brian’s palms sticky and wet from Justin’s leaking cock moved to soothe the stinging blows on his thighs. 

 

Brian knew Justin was beyond thought now. His body trembled at the slightest touch. He was no longer able to discern between pleasure and pain. It was all pure sensation. His eyes were darker, his pupils dilated with need. He heard him purr as he stroked his hip. Heard him growl as he slid his thumb across the head of his cock again.

 

He listened to the muted whimpers and pleas that he couldn’t hold back as his fingers made their way inside him.

 

He heard the almost demanding grunt of protest when he removed his fingers and concentrated again on the inside of his thighs. Brian shifted his body and lifted Justin’s legs. He held them at the knee with one hand while the other rained quick solid smacks against his perfect pale ass.

 

Justin came hard while he was doing it. 

 

Brian watched with a smile as Justin’s body gave up trying to determine between sensations and let it go.

 

Brian dropped his own pants and slid a condom on. He was inside Justin within moments. Justin was pushing his body towards him, arching to take him inside fully. The spasms of his aftershocks gripping at him.

 

Brian covered Justin’s body with his own. He let Justin wrap his legs around his waist and felt the heat of his freshly punished ass as he slammed into him again and again. “Such a good little boy” 

 

Justin’s head was thrown back, his body clinging to Brian, his arms strained against their bindings, as he whispered his pride and appreciation into his ear. “Such a good wet little boy. Coming for me like that.”

 

Justin’s head flopped back down on the pillow and Brian continued to fuck him until he was close. He untied Justin’s arms and pulled out of him, pulling the condom off and moving himself towards Justin’s mouth. 

 

Justin took a deep breath when the tie was removed and then took all of Brian’s hard shaft into his throat. He sucked and licked and a moment later was rewarded with Brian’s come.

 

He kept sucking as Brian pulled out of his mouth. Brian shifted his weight and leaned back against the headboard. Justin leaned against him, practically in his lap. Brian’s hands were stroking the sweaty tendrils of blonde hair off his forehead and his other arm was draped across his thighs. He leaned his head back and Brian’s face hovered above his as they shared breath before he kissed him. 

 

When Brian’s mouth pulled off of his it was still holding his bottom lip with his teeth. Justin sighed contentedly as Brian’s mouth relinquished its hold on him and he rested his head against Brian’s shoulder.

 

“You really don’t think I’m hot?”

 

Brian laughed. “You _are_ retarded.”

 

They kissed again and eventually fell asleep. Then weekend was spent shopping and appreciating the city, and each other. Justin got more and more nervous about seeing Daphne as the time approached.

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

 

Most of Justin’s fears were assuaged the moment Daphne hugged him and squealed. Justin smiled and hugged her back, she was barely showing, even though she was in her fifth month.

 

“God, you look great.”

 

“If you tell me I’m glowing I’m going to kill you.”

 

“You’re not glowing, but…”

 

“What?”

 

“I don’t know, you look happy.”

 

“I am dork. But then so do you.”

 

“I do?”

 

“Yeah, I guess marriage agrees with both of us.” 

 

Justin shot a look at Brian who smirked and Daphne stuck her tongue out at Brian quickly. “Don’t argue.”

 

Brian shrugged. “I wasn’t gonna. Justin hates that word.”

 

“Right, and you love it.” Justin said as he took a step back from his friend.

 

“Actually I think you might be the commitmentphobe now.”

 

“Whatever. We’re not married.”

 

“I know.”

 

“You’re sooo married.” Daphne said as she took Justin's hand and pulled him inside. “C’mon, I’ll give you the tour, and then you can tell me about your place.”

 

“You’ve seen pictures.”

 

“Yeah, online pictures I want to hear about living in New York.”

 

“Um, Daph. Been living there for four years. I email you like three times a week.”

 

“Shut up. I missed you I want to hear your voice.”

 

“Because it’s so different than when we’re on the phone.”

 

“Stop being a prick Justin. You’ve been really hard to get a hold of lately.”

 

“Um, yeah. I’ve been really busy.”

 

“With what?’

 

They were in the living room now. It was small and bright and some might call it cozy. Justin thought it might be claustrophobic but then he realized he was being a dick. He sat down heavily on the overstuffed green and blue plaid sofa. “Um… brain damage?”

 

“What?”

 

“Okay don’t freak.”

 

“Justin!”

 

“It was this little thing. This very tiny, miniscule little thing where I had a touch of brain damage.”

 

“WHAT?” Daphne looked towards Brian. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

Brian shrugged and sat on the chair, putting his feet up on the coffee table. Daphne absentmindedly knocked them off “keep your feet off my furniture. Why the fuck didn’t you call?”

 

She wasn’t addressing either one of them in particular but Brian gave Justin a look that clearly let him know it was his story to tell and his fag to calm down.

 

Justin took a deep breath. “It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

 

“That one always works.” Brian muttered under his breath. Justin shot daggers at him with a look and focused on Daphne who was kneeling in front of him. 

 

“Justin?” She looked like she was about to cry.

 

“Oh for the love of god Daph, get up. I had some scar tissue from the bashing. It was causing huge fucking migraines and fucking with my motor skills. They went in. They took out the scar tissue and now I’m almost back to normal.”

 

“Almost?”

 

“I’m still working on full use of my gimp arm.”

 

“Like before.”

 

“Pretty much.”

 

“When?”

 

“When what.”

 

“Don’t be dense. When was the surgery?”

 

“Like five weeks ago.”

 

“Four and a half” Brian said.

 

“That’s _like_ five.” Justin said.

 

“A month ago you were having brain surgery and I’m just hearing about it? You. Suck.”

 

Brian laughed. “You should have heard what his mommy had to say.”

 

“You didn’t tell your mother?”

 

“Yeah, she would have been calm.”

 

“Justin. You. Suck.”

 

“You already said that.”

 

“It’s worth repeating you fucking git.”

 

“Going all brit on me?”

 

“Yes you bloody wanker. Now let me see your hand.”

 

“No.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because it’s not working right.”

 

“So what.”

 

“So it’s…”

 

Daphne picked up his right hand in her own. “All your fingers work?”

 

“Everything’s working but my forearm. It’s still…clunky.”

 

“And you’re doing all that PT stuff you had to do before.”

 

“And then some” Brian added. 

 

“So lets talk about you Daph. How are you and Alex?”

 

“We’re exhausted and the kid hasn’t even been born yet. But the nursery is coming along.”

 

“I’m sorry. I wanted to paint a mural for you.”

 

Daphne squeezed his hand. “I don’t care. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

 

“Why does everyone blow this out of proportion?”

 

Brian snorted and Daphne pushed him in the shoulder. “‘Cause you weren’t there. You didn’t see you almost die. We did.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Brian looked at Daphne and said nothing. She’d managed in a sentence to tell Justin what he’d been trying to say for the last two months. Damn he missed her. He’d have to see if he could find a job for Alex. Justin needed Daphne around…she’d never invite Ethan to dinner to make him feel better.

 

“They invited Ethan?” Brian had lost track of the conversation but apparently Justin had been thinking along the same lines.

 

“Can you fucking believe that? They figured he’d seen me gimpy so I wouldn’t mind if they brought him along. Said I was being antisocial.”

 

“You’re always antisocial. Why the fuck would they think you wanted to see him again?”

 

“They’re boneheads.”

 

“You need new friends.”

 

“I miss my old ones.”

 

“I miss you too.”

 

“I’m going outside for a cigarette.”

 

Daphne nodded and Justin waited until he left to confide in Daphne. “This almost killed Brian.”

 

“Duh.”

 

“Seriously, I wasn’t sure he was gonna make it without losing his mind.”

 

“Again, duh.”

 

“I’m still not sure he’s okay.”

 

“He’s never been okay. But you didn’t tell him for so fucking long.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

“I’ve known you longer than anyone. And I’m right aren’t I?”

 

“Yeah.” Justin leaned back and put his feet up. Daphne knocked them off the coffee table. “Cut it out.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“Whatever. So how long was it really going on before you told Brian?”

 

“Almost a year.”

 

“Does he know that now?”

 

“I think so.”

 

“Think so?”

 

“Yeah. I told him all of it.”

 

“Good. But.”

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing, just…next time tell me.”

 

“Why? So you can tell Brian.”

 

Daph pushed him. “No idiot. So I know. This may be a surprise, but MY life does not revolve around what Brian Kinney does and does not know.”

 

“There are lives that don’t revolve around Brian Kinney?”

 

“Only on other continents.”

 

“Is that why you moved?’

 

Daphne laughed. “I moved for the same reason Brian did.”

 

“Yeah, I guess you did.”

 

Brian came back in and the three of them chatted, catching up on the world they all used to know. Brian became quiet when Justin talked about Rage or Michael and Daphne filed it away as something to discuss with Justin later. She knew the basics of the story from Justin’s emails but he’d never discussed it with her in depth and she hadn’t realized that Brian and Michael still weren’t speaking.

 

The topic moved to other things and soon Alex came home and they all headed to the local pub. Daphne couldn’t drink but she’d gotten good at darts and beat Brian two out of three games. Justin had bowed out of the competition claiming brain damage.

 

He sat with Alex and watched as his original hag and his whatthefuckever boyfriend or something played a fourth game. 

 

“She’s missed you.”

 

“Yeah, I’ve missed her.”

 

“‘S hard for her sometimes, being so far away from home.”

 

“I know. I wish I could get here more often.”

 

“I wish we could go there as well.”

 

“You’re always welcome to stay with us.”

 

“Oh, it’s not money, it’s time. Between work and getting the house ready for the baby. And in a couple months she’s not supposed to really travel at all. But we’re hoping to come next year and see everyone.”

 

“That’d be nice.” Justin sipped his beer. “She’s happy though.”

 

“Yes.”

 

He nodded. “Yeah, she’s happy so she’s where she’s supposed to be.”

 

Alex nodded back and they both had a cigarette while Daphne soundly beat Brian again.

 

They were all drunk except for Daphne as they walked back to the house. Brian was also stoned. Justin hadn’t felt like it and Alex wasn’t much of a recreational smoker. Brian was humming. Justin leaned against him. “Stop humming.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Just stop.”

 

“They laughed and stumbled up to the guest room.

 

After about an hour Daphne pounded on the wall. “Get some fucking sleep! The walls here are thin!”

 

“Deal with it!” Brian yelled back and Justin laughed.

 

It was after ten before they stumbled downstairs the next morning. Daphne glared at them for a second and then started laughing.

 

“You two are impossible.”

 

Brian leaned over and kissed Daphne on the cheek. “Part of our charm.”

 

“No it isn’t but I’ll forgive you this time.”

 

Justin kissed her then and smiled. “So what’s on the agenda today?”  
  


“Up to you. Nothing to do here, so we’d have to drive out of town. Well, unless you want to see the Wedgwood factory.”

 

Both Brian and Justin grimaced and Daphne nodded. “Thought so. Shopping and lunch someplace that isn’t surrounded by sheep then?”

 

They both nodded and piled into Daphne's car. Brian offered to drive but Daphne shot him a withering glance. Brian then teased her the entire trip about her becoming a mom, and practicing her looks on the two of them.

 

She couldn’t win. If she shot him a look he made his point. If she didn’t he went on about her in curlers and a robe yelling at a bunch of screaming brats. 

 

All three of them were laughing so hard it hurt by the time they got to the restaurant.

 

Two days later Justin was sad to say goodbye. Brian was a little less mournful but then he was taller than Justin and found everything in Daphne and Alex’s house to be cramped and low and he felt like a fucking awkward big dog about to knock something over every time he turned around.

 

They were on the train headed towards London where they spent a day shopping before heading towards Heathrow and home.

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

 

Justin lay on his back on their bed, his arms out to the sides and his knees hanging off the edge of the mattress. “Fuck it’s good to be home.”

 

Brian mumbled something while he unpacked.

 

“What?”

 

“We’re not home 'til we’re unpacked.”

 

“Pfft.”

 

“Suing.”

 

“Did you call Gus and Lindsay?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“And?”  
  


“I’m going up to Toronto in three weeks.”

 

“Cool.”

 

“You coming?”

 

“You want me to?”

 

Brian just looked at him and Justin shrugged. “After I call martin and find out about getting back to work I’ll let you know.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“And I have a PT appointment in two days.”

 

“I know.”

 

“And I’m supposed to meet Michael in a week to finalize sketches and layout for the next issue. The guy from cartoon network is still trying to convince us to consider it.”

 

“Nice try. Michael’s not coming here.”

 

“You’ll be at work.”

 

“And you’ll be in Pittsburgh. At his place. He’s not allowed in the loft. He’s not allowed here.”

 

“Brian.”

 

“I didn’t ban him from Babylon. What more do you want?”  
  


“Nothing I guess.”

 

“So next week you’re in Pittsburgh?”

 

“For like two days, maybe three. I’m probably gonna drive.”

 

“Not my car. Not with that arm.”

 

“It’s an automatic and my left arm works fine.”

 

“I’ll get Cyn to book it.”

 

“I can drive.”

 

“Not my car. Not with that arm.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“Once I’m done packing. Patience.”

 

“And they wonder why I have brain damage.”

 

“No. They don't.”

 

“Oh yeah.”

 

Brian smiled and Justin stood up and dragged him back to bed. Neither of them even thought the conversation about Michael or Justin driving back to Pittsburgh was over, but they had a couple of days and were currently out of things to bicker about so this would do.

 

Then neither was really thinking about bickering at all.

 

Then neither was really able to think.

 

 

 

* * *

 

<http://www.717hotel.nl/index.htm>"> where they stayed in Amsterdam   


* * *

 


	16. Chapter 16

KIT 16

 

 

 

* * *

 

**Keeping It Together**

**Chapter Sixteen**

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Brian was sitting on the sofa in Lindsay's new place. His bare feet on the coffee table. Gus was due home from school soon and he was getting more and more nervous. Yeah, he’d put this off because of Justin’s medical bullshit. He’d put it off because Remson needed him to go take a few meetings out of the country, but he also wasn’t sure what to say. What do you say when your own kid doesn’t trust you any more than the rest of the fucked up people in your life who are just waiting for you to screw up…again.

 

Gus walked in and saw him and Brian wanted to understand what that look that crossed his face meant. He didn’t. He smiled instead. “Hey Sonny-boy”

 

“Dad?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You’re early.”

 

“Caught an earlier plane. You have plans tonight?”

 

“Um, I’m nine.”

 

Brian smiled. “I mean hockey practice or school sh…things.”

 

“No. And you can curse in front of me, momma’s not hear to scream.”

 

“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure neither of your mom’s particularly appreciates it when I corrupt your oh so innocent ears.”

 

Gus rolled his eyes. “After the stuff Mom and Momma said to each other…I don’t think my ears are innocent anymore.”

 

Brian frowned. “Got bad at the end?”

 

Gus dropped his backpack in the corner and threw his coat over the chair. “The end? Dad, they ALWAYS yell. Then they’d tell me they were ‘discussing’ something. They yell a lot.”

 

“Still?”  
  


Gus shrugged. “Now it’s over the phone, and it’s about money or whatever. Then momma’s like, sooo cheerful when she tries to talk to me afterwards.”

 

“That sucks.”

 

“I know, but Kyle says it gets better.”

 

“Kyle?”  
  


“Friend of mine from school.” Gus had grabbed a bag of chips and kicked off his shoes, he was sitting next to Brian now, his toes curled over the tip of the coffee table not quite reaching as far as Brian’s long legs. Brian used his feet and pulled the table closer with the tops of his toes so they could both sprawl comfortably. “Thanks.”

 

Brian shrugged and pulled a chip out of the bag Gus was holding. “You okay?”

 

“I’m fine. I’ve told you that when you called.”

 

“Fathers like to hear shit like that more than once.” 

 

Gus smiled. “You cursed.”

 

“Yeah, it’s a bad habit. Don’t start. You won’t be able to stop.”

 

“Like smoking?”

 

“Exactly like smoking.”

 

“You do that too.”

 

Brian shook his head. “You wanna categorize everything that’s wrong with your old man?”  
  


“Nah, I’ve got Momma for that.”

 

Brian chuckled. 

 

“She doesn’t like anyone though. She tells me what’s wrong with mom when I visit. She complains about uncle Ben, she gets mad at uncle Mikey, she’s just…”

 

“Angry.”

 

Gus shrugged. “I guess. I just don’t know why she’s angry at me.”

 

Brian threw an arm around Gus’s shoulder and tried to ignore the crumbs that were now ending up on his shirt. “She isn’t. She’s angry at the world and you just happen to be in it.”

 

“That’s not fair.”

 

“I know.”

 

Gus looked up. “You’re not gonna tell me that life isn’t fair?”

 

“Why would I tell you that?”

 

“That’s what all the grownups say when I say something isn’t fair.”

 

“I’m not all the grownups.”

 

Gus smiled. “Are you really gonna get me new hockey gear?”  
  


“You said you outgrew your skates.”

 

“I did.” 

 

Brian looked at Gus’s bare feet sitting next to his own. “You’re gonna be tall.”

 

“At least six three. The doctor said so.”

 

“He did huh?”

 

“Yeah when they had to X-ray my foot, they looked at those growth plate things. He said I had a lot of growing left to do.”

 

“That’s good. Hate for you to be a midget.”

 

“Like Justin.”

 

Brian looked down and saw a familiar twinkle in Gus’s eye. “Shut up. He’s not a midget. He’s just not as tall as I am.”

 

“I’m almost as tall as he is.”

 

“No you’re not. But you will be soon.”

 

“I’m the tallest kid in my class. That’s why Caitlin thinks I should be her boyfriend.”

 

“It’s as good a reason as any I guess.”

 

“Da-ad.” Gus had that instinctive ability to turn a single syllable word into a multi-syllable whine. Brian winced. 

 

“Do you like Caitlin?”

 

“I don’t know. She always wants to kiss me.”

 

“Who do you want to kiss?”

 

Gus blushed. “No one.”

 

“Mmm hmmm.”

 

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

 

“You know I don’t care who you want to kiss.”

 

“I don’t know if I’m gay dad. I’m like way too young to know that.”

 

“I wasn’t asking.”

 

“Were too.”

 

“Was not.”

 

“Were too.”

 

“Was not.”

 

Lindsay came back from the basement of the building carrying a basket of laundry. “Good Brian. I’m glad you two are finally emotional equals.”

 

Brian shot her a look and she breezed past them into her own room and shut the door, allowing them some privacy.

 

“I don’t want to be Caitlin’s boyfriend. She smells funny and she always wears her hair in this long braid. It looks stupid.”

 

“Tell her no.”

 

“If I do that she’ll tell her friends and they’ll say I’m scared.”

 

Brian nodded trying to take schoolyard politics seriously. 

 

“So what should I tell her?”

 

“Gus. If I knew how to turn a demanding woman down…you wouldn’t be here to have this conversation.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Nothing. I’m glad you’re here. How’s the foot?”  
  


Gus sighed. “Dad, do I really have to go to every holiday with uncle Mikey and Grandma Deb?”  
  


“No. Who told you that?”  
  


“Uncle Mikey keeps talking about it like it’s next week. I mean we just finished the holidays didn’t we?”

 

“Yeah, well, it’s almost April so they’re still a while away. And you’re still spending the summer with me in New York.”

 

“Uncle Mikey says that you’re gonna find some reason I can’t come, just like you had reasons you couldn’t come up here. Uncle Mikey’s dumb sometimes.”

 

“Yeah. He doesn’t understand. I’ve got your room all set.”

 

“You do?”  
  


“Well mostly, you have to put your own posters up or whatever. You’ll always have somewhere to go. But…”

 

“I won’t do it again.”

 

“Gus you can’t. You just…”

 

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll call next time I want to see you.”

 

Brian kissed the top of his head. “And don’t listen to Michael. He has no idea what he’s talking about.”

 

“He says you never even wanted to be a father.”

 

Brian felt the hot ball of anger towards Michael swell in his chest. He shook his head. “He couldn’t be more wrong. If I didn’t want to be your dad, I’d be crazy.”

 

“I know you get busy.”

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t get up here again sooner.”

 

“It’s okay. I just miss you sometimes.”

 

“I miss you too.”

 

“Can we go now?”  
  


“Don’t you want your mom to come?”  
  


“No. She gets so serious about safety ratings.”

 

Brian nodded. “And you just care if it looks cool.”

 

“She won’t let me get the helmet I want.”

 

“Yeah, moms are funny about head injuries. Wanna know a secret?”

 

“What?”

 

“So are dads.”

 

“Fu…fudge.”

 

Brian laughed. “Good save.”

 

“I better get good at saves I’m gonna be the goalie.”

 

“So you need a face mask.”

 

“Yeah. And a chest guard and…”

 

“Let’s go. Get your coat, I’ll tell your mother we’re leaving.”

 

Three hours later they returned. Brian let Gus show Lindsay his new equipment, and his new gaming system while he drank a beer in blissful silence. He wondered idly if he’d ever been that energetic as a kid. And if he had… how had jack not hit him more? He shook his head at the thought. He really had no desire to hit Gus. Michael was another story entirely. He thought he could just let it go…he was wrong.

 

Gus was finally in bed and Brian was on his third beer. Lindsay opened one for herself and sat down next to Brian on the sofa. “You bought him another gaming system?”

 

“He needed it.”

 

“I’d like Gus to learn the actual definition of need.”

 

“His was two years old. And this place is a dump.”

 

“I love you too Brian.”

 

“I would have helped.”

 

“I’m doing fine.”

 

Brian looked around. “Maybe.”

 

“So when were you going to tell me about Justin’s brain surgery?”

 

Brian flinched. “How’d you find out?”

 

“Justin apparently told Michael earlier today.”

 

“And he told two friends, and they told two friends…”

 

“And Debbie called to tell me because she was sure you weren’t going to.”

 

“I was. I didn’t want to upset Gus.”

 

“Brian. You could have told me earlier.”

 

“He didn’t want anyone to know. Asked me not to.”

 

“How’s he doing?”  
  


“He’s healing. He’s pissed that rehab isn’t going as fast as he’d like. He’s Justin.”

 

“Demanding and impatient.”

 

“Justin.”

 

“How are _you_ doing?”  
  


“I’m perfect.”

 

“You look it.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“Brian…”

 

“I’m fine. Justin’s fine.”

 

“Michael…”

 

“Michael and I are gonna have a talk.”

 

“I’ve tried Brian. I’ve asked Mel to back off. I’ve asked her to watch what she and Michael say about you in front of Gus…”

 

“Too little too late.”

 

“He doesn’t believe it.”

 

“He believes it.”

 

“He loves you Brian.”

 

“But he believes them. He’s probably right to.”

 

“Stop it. You’re a good dad.”

 

“I’m not a dad. I’m a guy who stops by once in a while.”

 

“You talk to him a lot. I’ve seen the phone bill.”

 

“I’ll get him a cell just to call me. You shouldn’t have to pay for that.”

 

Lindsay shoved Brian with her shoulder. “I wasn’t complaining about the cost. I was observing that you do more than just stop by once in a while.”

 

“Are you and Mel done for good this time?”

 

“I think so.”

 

“Think?”  
  


“Brian, she cheated on me.”

 

“Again.”

 

“Again.”

 

“After you cheated on her.”

 

“That’s…”

 

“True?”

 

“Not the issue.”

 

“No, it isn’t. The issue is that in fifteen years, you two have never accepted that the occasional anonymous fuck is necessary.”

 

“No it isn’t.”

 

“So stay apart.”

 

“We’re better apart. I don’t think we love each other anymore.”

 

“Well, then stay the fuck away from her.”

 

“I do.”

 

“Move back.”

 

“What?”

 

“When school’s out. Move back. I’ll set you up in New York. I can be near Gus. You can build a life separate from hers. Get out of this dump. I know of a really nice two bedroom in Chelsea that’s gonna be available.”

 

“Brian. I can’t just pack up and leave.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because I have a job. There’s Jenny, there’s…”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Reasons.”  
  


“You’re seeing someone.”

 

“It’s still new.”

 

“But you think it might be…”

 

“I try not to think about it. I still miss Melanie.”

 

“Well, then talk to her about the anonymous fucking. Set some boundaries.”

 

“Like you and Justin.”

 

“You think we’d still be anywhere near together after nine fucking years if we tried it your way?”

 

“Not you.”

 

“Not him either.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yeah.”  
  


“Okay.”

 

“Don’t. He’s not that kid you all think he is. He’s not some heartbroken teenager putting up with me.”

 

“I know that, Brian.”

 

“Think about moving.”

 

“I’m too tired to even consider it.”

 

“I didn’t mean tonight.”

 

“Good.” Lindsay yawned loudly.

 

“Go to bed, I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

“I wish you didn’t have to leave so soon.”

 

“Have to be back in the office Monday.”

 

“And you’re going to Pittsburgh to see Michael first.”

 

“I didn’t say that.”

 

“I know you.”

 

“I might.”

 

“Don’t hit him.”

 

“I might.”

 

“He means well.”

 

“No. He doesn’t.”

 

“Brian.”

 

“Go to bed Lindsay. I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

“Tell Justin I said hi.”

 

Brian smiled and when Lindsay closed her bedroom door he dialed Justin’s number.

 

“Hi.”

 

“Hey.”

 

“You could have warned me you were gonna go public.”

 

“I just told Michael.”

 

“No such thing.”

 

“Shit. You didn’t get to tell Lindsay.”

 

“Debbie did.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“S’okay. I’m gonna be in Pittsburgh on Sunday.”

 

“Why?”  
  


“Very long story.”

 

“Michael still trash talking you to Gus?”

 

“Very short story.”

 

“He’s lost his fucking mind.”

 

“You still gonna be there?”

 

“No where to be 'til Wednesday’s PT appointment.”

 

“Good. You going to check on Babylon for me?”

 

He could hear Justin smile. “Yeah, just to make sure it’s still holding up without you there.”

 

Brian smiled too. “Good. Make sure the back room still works.”

 

“I was actually gonna do some intensive research on who and how they use the VIP lounge when you’re not around.”

 

“I want a written report.”

 

“I could just give you a reenactment.”

 

“Works too.”

 

“You know we may have to do Sunday dinner.”

 

“Not under thereat of death.”

 

“Talk to you later?”

 

“I’ll call tomorrow.”

 

“Bye.”

 

Brian closed the phone and stretched out on the lumpy sofa. He should have gotten a hotel room but he really was worried about Gus. 

 

The next day was about patience and recognizing that Gus really had become a fully formed human. A full formed human who sometimes made no sense, because he was nine. But when Brian left for the airport he felt as if a weight had been lifted. Gus WAS comfortable with him. For the most part, Gus was happy. He really was looking forward to spending some quality time with him over the summer. 

 

All of that weight settled back on him the moment the plane landed in Pittsburgh. He wasn’t looking forward to seeing Michael again. His anger built with each mile as the cab drove him to the loft. 

 

He slid the door open and was greeted by an enthusiastic kiss.

 

“Hi.”

 

“Hi.”

 

“You’re in a good mood.”

 

“You’re here. We haven’t been here in a while.”

 

“Since before the surgery.”

 

“And look…” Justin twisted his arm. 

 

“More control.”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Someone fucked you better last night.”

 

“Nope. Just a lot of PT. But the VIP lounge is holding up well, in case you were wondering.”

 

“I was worried there might be a lack of horny blondes available.”

 

“I made sure there wasn’t.”

 

“How’s the loft doing on horny blondes?”

 

“Fully stocked.”

 

Brian dropped his bag as Justin walked him backwards towards the sofa. “Although we might be overstocked.”

 

“Really?”  
  


“Really.”

 

Justin fell on top of him, their bodies shifting until perfect aligned. Justin kissed him hungrily. “Well, I may need to decrease the horniness level.” Brian's hands were sliding under Justin’s shirt.”

 

Justin shook his head. “Can’t be done. That just increases it.”

 

Brian sucked Justin's tongue into his mouth and marveled at the choreography they’d managed to perfect, as his coat, and Justin’s clothes and then his own became a heap on the floor. 

 

He had Justin pressed against the back of the sofa, on his knees. He was pounding into him. He felt him shudder his release and let himself go. 

 

He was sprawled, still naked, on the sofa. Justin’s body was curled around his. His fingers made intricate patterns across his chest. Brian was curling a few tendrils of his blonde hair around his fingers. 

 

“When are you going to see Michael?”

 

Brian shrugged. “Soon.”

 

“Any idea what you’re gonna say.”

 

“Go near my son again and I’ll kill you.”

 

Justin looked up. “Seriously. What are you gonna say?”

 

“I am serious.”

 

“Brian…”

 

“Don’t. I have no idea why you’re so ego involved in this but it’s not your issue Justin.”

 

“It’s my issue too. I love Gus. Michael’s my business partner. You’re my whatthefuckever boyfriend or something. He’s your best friend.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Why?”

 

“What defines him as my best friend?”

 

“He’s known you forever.”

 

“There are some that could argue you’d fit that bill too.”

 

“You grew up together.”

 

“There are arguments to be made that neither of us have grown up much.”

 

“You share a history.”

 

“So do the Czech’s and the Slovakian’s, doesn’t mean they wanted to be together forever.”

 

“So you’re just done with him?”

 

Brian shrugged again. 

 

“Can you really do that?”

 

“Do what?”

 

“Just…finish with someone? Just decide…’that crossed the line, it’s over.’”

 

Brian sat up. “Is that what this is about?”

 

“What?”

 

“You think if I can write Michael off I’m gonna do the same to you.”

 

“I didn’t say that.”

 

“But that’s why you’ve been pushing so hard.”

 

“I haven’t been pushing.”

 

“You have.”

 

“It just seems cold.”

 

“What he did to Gus was cold.”

 

“But you’ve been mad at Michael before.”

 

“Not like this.”

 

“You fucking clocked him in the jaw.”

 

“He was being a an asshole.”

 

“For the very first time I’m sure.”

 

“He crossed a line. And I brought him a steak later.”

 

“Oh well then it’s all okay.”

 

“Justin. This isn’t about us.”

 

“But you’re saying…”

 

“Yeah, you fuck with Gus, we’re gonna have issues. Were you planning on painting me as the villain in my son’s life?”

 

“Not this week.”

 

“Were you planning on taking what little you used to know and understand about me and twisting it until you look like a shining example of manhood and I look like an irresponsible dick?”

 

Justin watched as Brian angrily pulled on his clothes. “No.”

 

“So don’t worry. It’s not about being able to write people off. Michael doesn’t fucking know who I am. He’s not my best friend. Saying he is, that’s not the litmus test.”

 

Justin smiled.

 

“What?”

 

“I’m your best friend.”

 

“What?”

 

“The litmus test. We grew up together. I KNOW you. We share a history. I’m your best friend.” Justin singsonged.

 

“Oh I swear to Christ I’ll end two fucking relationships today if you keep that up.”

 

“You can’t…because I’m Brian Kinney’s best friend.”

 

Brian smiled and grabbed his keys. “‘Vette in the garage?”

 

“Yep. Best friend.”

 

“Get that out of your system before I get back.”

 

“Whatever you say, best friend.”

 

Brian closed the door behind him and bit back a smile. Okay, Justin got it. That part was finished. Now he had to make sure Michael understood.

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

KIT 17

 

 

 

* * *

 

**Keeping It Together**

**Chapter Seventeen**

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Brian was driving too fast and he knew it, but it helped. He lit a cigarette and drove past Michael’s house. He kept driving for a while and when he was sure he was calm enough to start the conversation without violence he parked and walked to the door. He leaned on the bell.

 

Ben answered. 

 

“Brian, good to see you…” his greeting tapered off as Brian pushed past him. 

 

“Where’s Michael.”

 

“He’s upstairs, I’ll get him.”

 

Brian nodded. “Good. Then leave.”

 

“Brian.”

 

“I need to talk to Michael alone.”

 

“I’ll stay upstairs.”

 

Brian nodded. Ben probably had a right to be concerned for his husband’s welfare at the moment. It’s not that he was planning on hitting Michael; he just hadn’t ruled it out.

 

Michael came down with a smile “Brian. I’m glad you stopped by. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for forever.”

 

“I’ve been avoiding you.”

 

Michaels smile dimmed a little. “Yeah, I know.”

 

“Do you fucking know why?”  
  


“Because you’re still mad about the Gus thing. Look, it was never supposed to go down like that.”

 

“Really? How was it supposed to ‘go down’?”

 

“I just wanted him to know that he wasn’t being abandoned. That just because you were moving to New York, he wasn’t losing more of his family.”

 

“Right, a thought that didn’t occur to him 'til _YOU_ put it in his head.”

 

“I did not. Brian, he’s a kid and he was…”

 

“This wasn’t about him. What you did wasn’t about him, you stupid motherfucker, it was about you. You want me Michael? Is that what you want? Me?”

 

“Brian…”

 

“No. Tell me _Mikey_ , what is it you _really_ hoped to accomplish.”

 

“I just…” Michael was shifting from one foot to another and Brian was reminded of how he had looked when trying to defend himself against a couple of bullies the first day they’d met. He shook his head to clear it. 

 

“Never mind. It doesn’t matter. I’m here to tell you to cut it out. Don’t say another fucking word to Gus. Not about me, not about his mothers, not about anything.”

 

“Brian that’s not fair.”

 

“Yeah, well, life isn’t fair Michael. Some people get what they want. Some don’t.”

 

Michael looked confused. “You think this is because I still want you to fuck me?”

 

Brian laughed. “Christ, Michael, if I thought that’s what this was about I’d fuck you and get it over with. Nothing to lose at this point.”

 

Michael looked like he’d been struck. “Nothing to lose?”

 

“You. Can’t lose what you don’t have.”

 

“You have me Brian. I’m your best friend.”

 

Brian's mind flashed to an annoyingly teasing blonde waiting for him in the loft and gave Michael a rueful smile. “No. Your worst fear has finally been realized. You’ve been replaced.”

 

“Brian.”

 

“Michael.”

 

“Brian, you can’t think Justin knows you. I’ve known you since we were…”

 

“Fourteen. I fucking know, Michael. I was there. Were you?”

 

“What? I was there. I was there for all of it.”

 

“No. Not for most of it. Not for the part where I grew up. And you know what? I stuck by you, even when we had fucking nothing in common. I was living as an adult, you were sharing an apartment and working at the Big Q, and I still came back. To see YOU. You never saw me.”

 

“I saw you all the time.”

 

“You never saw it Michael. You missed the part where I’m not nineteen anymore. I’m not twenty-nine anymore. I have a family, that I care about.”

 

“I’m part of that family.”

 

Brian shook his head. “You really don’t get it. Not anymore. Not now. Not after this.”

 

“What the fuck happened that was so bad?”

 

Brian lit a cigarette and Michael opened his mouth to ask him not to smoke in the house and then shut it again… “Brian…”

 

“Tell me something.”

 

“What?”  
  


“Why? Why is it so fucking important to you that I fail?”

 

“You never fail.” 

 

Brian sat down and used a nearby vase of flowers as an ashtray. “Why, Michael?”

 

“I don’t want you to fail Brian.”

 

“Then why the fuck are you so intent hurting the people I care about. Why the fuck are you so fucking sure that I’m gonna fuck up that you feel it’s your duty to run around and warn them?”  
  


“Because you _do_ fuck up. It hurts Brian. It hurts when you make promises and don’t keep them. It hurts when you put your own needs ahead of someone else’s. I didn’t want Gus to be disappointed.”

 

“Like you were.”

 

“Well, yeah.”

 

“Gus is my kid. When have I EVER not done what’s best for him? When have I ever put my own needs ahead of his?”

 

Michael opened his mouth and closed it again. He sat across from Brian and ran a hand through his hair as he thought. “You gave up your parental rights.”

 

“So he could have two loving parents.”

 

“But… you… you let him go.”

 

“And you fought so hard to keep Jenny-Rebecca here.”

 

“I thought it was what was best.”

 

“And you assumed I didn’t? You think I just let him go because it got him out of my hair?”

 

“You didn’t even remember he existed 'til you got cancer.”

 

“It’s called growing up Michael, you should look into it sometime.”

 

“Hey, I’m there for Jenny way more than you are for Gus.”

 

“Not a contest Michael. And I’d NEVER tell JR what a useless fucking shit her father is.”

 

Brian dropped the cigarette into the vase and watched the butt float. He turned his attention to Michael and saw tears in his eyes. 

 

“I just didn’t want Gus to be disappointed.”

 

“So you told him I would bail on him for the summer?”

 

“You will.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“You and Justin… you two run off to Europe on the spur of the moment. You’re out fucking and sucking all night long, how the hell is that gonna work with a nine year old kid around.”

 

“Not your issue Mikey.”

 

“But it _is_ my issue. I can have him here for the summer. Ma would love to help and we’ve got an extra room now that Hunter’s got his own place.”

 

“You’re not his fucking father Michael.”

 

“Should be.”

 

“What?”  
  


“I’m the one who spends time with him.”

 

“Really? All that quality time you spend telling him what a shit his father is. All that time scaring him into thinking that he’s gonna have to live with you and the good professor, or worse, your mother… that’s what makes you eligible to take over as his father?”

 

“But I go up there more often. You don’t…you and Justin don’t like to travel.”

 

“First you’ve got us jetting off at a moments notice, now we don’t like to travel. Which is it?”  
  


“It’s just, the two of you. You live in your own little world. There’s no room in there for anyone else.”

 

Brian leaned back and smiled… there was no humor in it. “It’s still about that. Nine fucking years and you’re still jealous of the guy I’d rather fuck than you.”

 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Brian.”

 

“Don’t I? I was there Michael. I heard what you told Justin. I didn’t want to move to New York. I’d been complaining to you about it. When was that exactly?”

 

“You said it was gonna be a pain in the ass.”

 

“And it was. Moving sucks. Never said I didn’t want to.”

 

“But…”

 

“But what.”

 

“You LIVE with him. You can’t want to live with him. Brian fucking Kinney doesn’t do live-in relationships.”

 

Brian stood up. “Brian fucking Kinney doesn’t do a lot of things, you have no idea what they are anymore, and you haven’t bothered to update your manual.”

 

“Brian…” 

 

Brian pinched his nose at the whining sound in Michael's voice.

 

“It’s over Michael. I’m done. Done with you, and Melanie, and anyone else who thinks I’m anywhere I don’t want to be.”

 

“I fucking knew he’d do this to you. I knew one day he’d make you choose.”

 

Brian turned to face Michael then. He leaned in and kissed him on the mouth. “He didn’t make me choose Michael. You did.”

 

“Brian…”

 

Brian was halfway to his car, he heard Michael following him.

 

“He’s a kid Brian. He’s a kid and he’s gonna leave you and then you’ll be alone.”

 

Brian turned quickly and he saw the anger, and the jealousy in Michael’s face. He saw something else too… desperation? Something. He didn’t care. He swung and felt the satisfying contact of bone against bone and his fist hit Michael. Square in the jaw. “I warned you about that shit.” 

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

 

He pointed the car towards the loft but he wasn’t ready to go back yet. He felt the tears and cursed himself. This shouldn’t be this hard. It shouldn’t be but it was. Michael had been a part of his life, a big part, an important part, for so long. But this shit was insane.

 

He drove for a while not sure where he was going. He smoked and drove and eventually pulled a joint out of the glove compartment and felt himself calm down a little. Almost an hour later parked and took the steps to the loft. The downstairs was dark. He poured himself a drink and sat. He didn’t bother to turn the lights on. He rolled another joint and tried to fucking forget. He couldn’t.

 

He felt, more than heard, Justin come down the steps. Justin sat next to him and ran a comforting hand through his hair. 

 

“You okay?”

 

“Couldn’t be better.”

 

“How’d it go?”

 

“It went.”

 

Justin stopped talking and he closed his eyes. Yeah, best friends knew when to shut up. 

 

They both sat in silence. Justin’s calming and warm presence making things feel somehow less fucked up. Making him feel less alone. 

 

“He was a good friend once.”

 

He saw Justin nod out of the corner of his eye.

 

“Wouldn’t have made it through high school without him.”

 

“I doubt that.”

 

“Don’t. He wasn’t always like this.”

 

“Yes he was.”

 

“Okay, yes he was, but it worked for us for a long time.”

 

“It worked 'til you wanted something that he didn’t.”

 

“It still worked then.”

 

“Maybe, when you needed to be a fucking irresponsible kid again.”

 

“He was good for that. It was good to have someone who knew me.”

 

“No. Brian, it was good to have someone who bought the image.”

 

“He did more than that. He knew there was more to me than the image… once.”

 

“Maybe, but he forgot about that part when it was convenient.”

 

“I guess.”

 

“He played up your faults, played them as strengths.”

 

“I taught him that they were.”

 

“You thought they were.”

 

“I still do.”

 

“Pfft.”

 

“I wasn’t wrong about everything. Neither was he.”

 

“No shit. If he were, this would be easy. If you were, I wouldn’t still be here.”

 

Brian nodded and closed his eyes. He was NOT going to fucking cry over this. Justin leaned over and kissed him gently on the cheek. “He started acting like your father.”

 

Brian turned his head quickly. “What?”

 

“He did. He saw what he wanted to see, couldn’t accept the parts he didn’t want to know about, and assumed you’d help him no matter what, no matter how much he treated you like shit.”

 

Brian nodded again. “Maybe.”

 

“He still wants you.”

 

“Not like that.”

 

“Maybe only a little like that. That’s not what I mean. He wants ALL of you. He wants to be more important than anyone else in your life.”

 

“He can’t be.”

 

“He can’t. You have Gus.”

 

“And you.”

 

“But it was never a contest. Not between Michael and me.”

 

“He made it one.” Brian clenched his glass harder as he considered how many times Michael had been a petty little shit to Justin, and how often Justin had simply ignored it.

 

“He tried to. It’s okay. I knew I’d win.”

 

Brian turned to look at Justin then. “How. How were you so fucking sure?”

 

“Because I never let it be a contest. Even when he tried to pull me into his stupid little games. You can’t be manipulated like that. I have no idea what made him think you could.”

 

“He could do that to me.”

 

“Lots of people can do that to you. You have a big heart.”

 

Brian snorted and Justin kissed him again and moved the glass out of his hand before he shattered it. “You do. You help your friends. You help your family…”

 

“Yeah, I’m such a help they all see me as a heartless asshole.”

 

“I think some of them have come around.”

 

“Really? Who?”

 

“Ted. He’s probably a better friend to you than Michael ever was.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“And Lindsay.”

 

“Lindsay still thinks I’m leading you around by the nose.”

 

“The _nose_?”

 

Brian smirked. Justin bristled. Then he shook his head and laughed. “We both really need to get over the way other people see us.”

 

“I’m over it.”

 

Justin nodded seriously. “That’s obvious.”

 

“Fuck you. I’m over it. I’m just sick of this shit.”

 

“What shit exactly?”

 

“All of it.”

 

“It’s funny, all that time that I was in New York and you were here… I somehow assumed that the changes you’d made were so obvious people couldn’t help but notice.”

 

“People have a blind spot about some things. You do.”

 

“I do?”

 

“You have huge blind spots about me.”

 

“Not anymore really.”

 

“You do. But you see me as…”

 

“Better?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I hate when you do this.”

 

“Do what?”

 

“This self depreciating ‘I don’t deserve to be loved’ thing.”

 

“I don’t do that.”

 

“You do that. You do it a lot after being reminded of it by Michael or Debbie or Melanie. Lindsay can bring it out too, but not as often.”

 

Brian shrugged. “They know me.”

 

“No, they don’t. They know parts of you.”

 

“You think you know all of me?”

 

“I think I know more of you than most. For instance I know that thought alone scares the shit out of you.”

 

Brian said nothing and poured himself another drink. “I know you wouldn’t be in New York if you didn’t want to be. I know you wouldn’t be with me if you didn’t want to be. I know you want to be with Gus more than you can be. I know you wish I’d shut up and suck you off right now.”

 

Brian nodded. “I really do.”

 

Justin smiled and kneeled between Brian’s knees. “I also know that even if I give the best blowjob you’ve ever had you’re still gonna fuck me tonight.”

 

“You seem so sure.”

 

“I know what it takes to make you want me.”

 

Brian raised an eyebrow as Justin lowered his zipper. “And what’s that?”

 

Justin smiled. “I’ll never tell.”

 

Brian’s hand was sliding through Justin’s hair and Justin was done talking. His mouth was busy. Brian leaned his head back against the sofa and shifted his body, spreading his legs and letting Justin do one of the things he did best. 

 

He felt his warm wet lips slide down his shaft and the rough feel of his tongue as he flattened it against the vein that ran along the bottom of his cock. Justin’s hands pulled at the waistband of his jeans and slid them lower so that he could give equal attention to his balls. 

 

Brian thought about what Justin had said. He thought about what Michael had said. About how he’d told Gus those things to keep him from the inevitable disappointment of counting on Brian Kinney. Brian's anger swelled and as it did Justin’s throat constricted around the head of his cock and he relaxed again. 

 

The fucking kid could read him. He knew his body, and somehow knew when he was losing himself to anger, or fear, or other bullshit he wouldn’t readily admit to. He had a way of counteracting those feelings with a few stokes of his tongue. With soft kisses on his cheeks. With hard bites on the inside of his thighs. Justin knew him better than anyone. That was true.

 

Justin’s lips were tight around the head of his cock. His tongue was fucking the slit and Brian stopped thinking. He let the feeling of Justin’s body leaning against his legs, and Justin’s mouth tantalizing him take over.

 

He bucked into his mouth and Justin swallowed again. He was humming now. A low buzz in the back of his throat that sent vibrations down Brian's cock. His fingers were running along the crack of his ass and slowly circling his hole. Brian groaned. He was close. Justin knew he was close. He felt Justin angle his head and take him deep again, sliding his mouth up and down, hollowing out his cheeks and flicking his tongue.

 

Brian gritted his teeth and felt himself let go. He came then, gripping Justin’s hair and thrusting into his mouth. Justin didn’t stop his ministrations and Brian was left relaxed and sated as Justin crawled over him, straddling his lap and kissing him deeply, sharing the taste with him.

 

Brian ran a hand through his hair. Justin kissed him again. “I’m vetoing Sunday dinner.”

 

Brian laughed. “‘Cause I was gonna insist we go.”

 

Justin took Brian’s hand in his. “Fuck, you hit him.”

 

“Just once.”

 

“Did he tell you again that you should have let me bleed to death?”

 

“Almost.”

 

“What the fuck?”

 

“I think you got it right. Debbie must have dropped him on his head a lot.”

 

“Maybe it’s just prolonged trauma from how often she slaps him.”

 

“Maybe his father was actually a monkey. That would explain the whole silverware thing.”

 

Justin laughed. “Does this mean I can be mean about Michael again?”

 

“Yeah, I think so.”

 

“Cool.”

 

Brian chuckled. “Why don’t you order dinner? I’m gonna take a shower and then later, did you say something about me fucking you?”

 

“Oh yeah, it’s on my list of things to do today.”

 

“I already fucked you once.”

 

“But I wrote it down twice.”

 

“Well, I’d hate to fuck with your list.”

 

Justin smiled and pulled off of Brian. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and frowned at it.

 

“Problem?”

 

Justin shook his head. Brian kissed him on the forehead. “Don’t order anything too greasy. I’ll be back down soon.”

 

Justin nodded and Brian flipped on the light on his way upstairs.

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

 

Fuck. I put the phone on silent when I heard Brian come in. Now was not a good time to be disturbed. I knew this was gonna hurt him. I knew this wouldn’t be a clean cut. It wasn’t. It isn’t… it hasn’t even started to heal yet. It’s gonna take a while.

 

Yeah, I pushed for him to do this but not just because I was scared. I’ll admit that. I _was_ scared. The concept of Brian being so linked to someone and being able to just cut them out of his life… see, that’s the thing, no matter what else happens between us… no matter how far apart we are, we’re a part of one another now.

 

Have been for a while. Even when I was with Ethan I knew we weren’t totally done. I wasn’t sure we’d end up back together and I sure as hell wouldn’t have put my money on us living together in New York but I knew we weren’t done. The idea that he could be done with Michael… the idea that one day he could be done with me. That fucking scared me…but it was more than that.

 

Michael does love Brian. He’s stupid. He’s fucking insane sometimes. He’s a jealous bitch, but he does love Brian, or the person he thinks Brian is. And Brian loves Michael… he loves him for what he’s allowed to be around him. Have you ever seen them together? It’s like they’re both still fifteen. Stupid and unconcerned about anything other than having a good time, making jokes, getting stoned. Those are the times that I understand the Brian and Michael show. And then there’s the bullshit Brian went through with his dad.

 

That’s a stickier issue… it really is. I’m not sure how much I understand Debbie’s never intervening on his behalf. I’m not sure how much Michael ever really understood but I know he understood what it did to Brian as an adult, or as much of an adult as Michael can ever see in Brian.

 

I remember the first time he came home drunk and almost in tears and I realized from his slurred ramblings that he’d been to see his father… it was apparently a pretty regular thing. He gave him money, had a few drinks… okay more than a few… pretended to be a back slapping breeder and then came home and just… well, he just cried. He tried to hide it but he was way too drunk. 

 

The first time I saw it I held him. I tried to get him to talk…Shut up. I was young and stupid and hadn’t memorized the Brian Kinney manual yet… I’d never try to get him to talk now. The funny thing is…now he WOULD talk to me, but then…forget it. He threw a fit, raged and screamed and eventually passed out. I just slept on the sofa. 

 

The next time it happened I handled it better but Michael seemed to know something was up. He told me, “just leave him alone after he sees his dad, you can’t talk to him and you can’t get him to stop.”

 

At first I was pissed. Michael was so often wrong about what I could and couldn’t get Brian to do… but as I thought about it I realized that this was different. This wasn’t about no repeats, this wasn’t about not doing boyfriends, or love or any of that other bullshit…this wasn’t about me at all. That’s when it all became okay.

 

Well, not okay, but when I let it go. I couldn’t change the way he interacted with his dad anymore than he could change the way I felt about mine. That isn’t the kind of stuff anyone can do for you. That isn’t the kind of stuff anyone really should try to do for you. He didn’t always come to me. Sometimes he did. He’d sneak in through the window at Debbie's house, and I swear to Christ I thought he’d break his neck he was so fucking drunk…really, it’s luck that he never did.

 

I think just as often he went to Michael though. He went to Michael for a lot of things. I’m not sure what would have happened after the bashing if Michael hadn’t stayed for a few weeks before heading off to Portland. I’m not sure how Brian would have ever forgiven himself if Michael had died when Babylon got bombed…not after the bullshit they were going through…

 

Michael isn’t all bad. He’s an annoying older brother who thinks he knows about life. He doesn’t. He’s tried to give me advice, and I take it all with a grain of salt…okay with a salt lick. Michael has his own agenda. 

 

It’s not about wanting Brian to fuck him. There is that, but it’s not all about that. It’s also about wanting Brian. Full stop. That’s what he wants, to be Brian’s number one priority. The odd thing is, after high school, probably even during, Michael was never Brian’s number one priority, that’s always been Brian.

 

It had to be. It should be. He taught me that, and he’s right. If I had kept sacrificing what I wanted to what everyone thought I should want… fuck, I’d hate my life right now. And I don’t. For the most part, except for the gimp hand, I love my life…

 

Well the gimp hand and the three missed calls. Two from Michael, one from Debbie. I so don’t want to get in the middle of this shit. I so want to just back the fuck away. I’m gonna try, but this isn’t over and I’m gonna get sucked in.

 

I make the call and order the Chinese food. Thank god they have Brian's card on file… I’d bet money neither of us has cash on us at the moment and I have no clue where my wallet is…upstairs somewhere.

 

I’m debating calling one or the both of them back. I’m thinking about how much that’s gonna suck when something else starts sucking, but in a really positive life affirming way.

 

I turn off my phone. Fuck ‘em. Brian’s sucking on my neck. His hair’s still wet from the shower. His skin’s warm and damp and he’s naked and his hands are twisting my nipples and I know he needs this right now and so do I.

 

I need to connect with him. I need him inside me. I need… him. My head leans back against his chest and his wet spiky hair is on my forehead. His mouth is gently kissing my temple and it’s weird how sweet and careful his kisses are when his hands are demanding and rough. 

 

He has no idea what he’s feeling right now. He has no idea if he wants to bend me over and fuck the shit out of me or lay me down and make love to me and it’d be funny if it weren’t so out of character and so indicative of how fucked up this whole thing with Michael has left him.

 

I make the decision for him and fall forward ageist the arm of the couch. Let him fuck me. Let him take control… he needs it. I love it. It’s all good. 

 

He takes the hint, and the control… his hands are on my hips and his thigh is between my legs. He kicks my legs apart further and then it’s back. God, it feels so good. I’m grinding against his thigh while his fingers are pushing inside me… rough, hard, almost no lube. It hurts in a way I can’t describe, in a way that makes me want him to never stop. 

 

His hand twists and my head drops and I’m grunting and pushing against him and he’s teasing my ass with the head of his cock. He’s gonna make me beg and I’m not far off from doing it. I have no fucking idea how anyone would keep their pride when the option is simply to let go and be gloriously fucked within an inch of your life. Fuck pride. Fuck self-control. Fuck everything but this moment, when he’s about to slide into me. When I open up for him and relax to give him full access. 

 

Full access. All of me. Everything. When he’s fucking me. When his hands are twisting my nipples and then stroking them with his thumb. When his mouth is leaving a trail of hot wet desire on my neck, ears, and shoulders. When his hand leaves a hard slap on my ass and then glides over that same spot with a gentle caress… he’s got all of me. And then he’s inside me.

 

He’s deep inside me in a single stroke. Like I said, almost no lube. I hear myself grunt but I’m thanking him too. I’ve been begging and he’s finally given me what I need. We’re operating as a single entity now. He’s not moving. I’m not moving. There’s nothing but the sound of our ragged breathing and my half sighed thank yous and then he pulls out completely and I’m whimpering because I want him back inside me. I’m whimpering because I know what’s coming and I brace myself for that unbearable stretch that I love so fucking much. I spread my legs further apart and he slams back into me and I moan against the arm of the sofa.

 

He’s fucking me now, hard and fast and punishing and I know this is gonna take a while. I know that he’s not gonna let me come any time soon. He’s gonna hold off himself until he’s sure that there’s nothing for either of us but that moment of pure electric blue heat of climax.

 

His hands, his hips, his mouth. They’re all working together now and my fingers are griping the arm of the sofa and then letting go. I watch my knuckles turn white and then watch as the color floods back. I can’t take my eyes off of them. I can’t focus on anything else. He hasn’t said a word. Sometimes it’s better that way. Sometimes he needs the silence, or to just hear me. I know he hears me, I know he gets off on it.

 

I’ve tried not to moan. I’ve tried to stay silent but it never works. If we’re in public and he needs me to be quiet we end up with me sucking his fingers, or he’ll put his hand over my mouth… I try, I really do, but it’s too much. My body is on sensory overload and if I don’t moan and whimper and grunt I’ll explode. It’s just that simple.

 

But we’re here, in the loft, where I can moan and whimper and grunt all I want and I do. And I’m begging again, begging him to let me come. I can’t take it. I feel it building and so does he and he pulls back and just stops. I hear his breathing slow down. I feel the pulse in his cock slow too and I want to scream at the injustice of it all… but the scream ends up a whimper or a plea and then there’s another sharp slap on my ass and he starts again, pulling all the way out and oh my fucking god….

 

He’s fucking me and his hands are stroking up my forearms and it feels weird because I still don’t have total sensation back in my gimp arm. So it’s solid and amazing on my left arm, and tingly and intangible, ghostlike on my right arm and then his hands are on mine. His fingers slide between mine and his hips roll as he snaps them against my ass and he’s deep in me now, and just rocking back and forth, stroking my prostate, prodding at it and I see red blobs swim behind my eyes, and orange and white and blue and every fucking color those lights over the bed have ever been and then I’m coming. The blobs become a solid mass of explosion and my body shakes and quivers and his weight and breathing tell me he’s come too and my heart is about to break out of my chest.

 

My body is about to disintegrate and I love him.

 

“I love you.”

 

He whispers it in my ear and I’m not sure I heard him. But I did. I heard him, and I’m not going to repeat it, and I’m not going to say it back, because he hates that.

 

He doesn’t want it to feel like an obligation, and I want to say it back but I can’t right now.

 

Later, when the food is here, and we’re watching some movie we’ve both already seen…I’ll let him know that I love him too. Right now…I’m just trying not to weep as he pulls out of me completely and pulls on his jeans to let the delivery guy up.

 


	18. Chapter 18

KIT 18

 

 

 

* * *

 

**Keeping It Together**

**Chapter Eighteen**

 

 

* * *

 

 

Brian and Justin were sprawled, half dressed, on the downstairs sofa. The movie ended and the sound of white noise woke Justin up. He sat up a little straighter and felt Brian stir.

 

Justin leaned forward for the remote and turned off the TV. Brian lit a cigarette and sat back on the sofa. 

 

“You book a ticket on the same flight?”

 

Brian nodded. “One a.m. right?”

 

Justin took a drag from Brian’s cigarette and glanced at the clock. “We should leave in a couple of hours.”

 

“It’ll be good to get home.”

 

Justin was about to agree when they heard the buzzer. They looked at each other. 

 

“Debbie or Michael?”

 

Brian smiled humorlessly, “possibly both.”

 

“Or neither.”

 

“Who else knows we’re here?”

 

“Let’s ignore it.”

 

Brian stood up. “I’m not hiding from them.”

 

Justin looked around and grabbed his shirt from the floor. He tossed Brian his. Brian pulled the shirt on but didn’t bother to button it. He heard Debbie's voice over the intercom and hit the button to allow her entrance to the building. He didn’t say a word. 

 

“You can get out of here if you want.” Brian scrubbed his face with his hands and poured himself a fingers worth of beam.

 

“I’ll stay. Could be fun.”

 

Brian almost smiled. He opened the door when he heard Debbie's pounding and moved aside, allowing her to barrel her way into the room. She stopped almost in the dead center, her hands on her hips, her face red with anger. Her cheeks were puffed out and she looked more like a clown than Justin had ever seen her. He did his best not to laugh.

 

“What the fuck were you thinking?”  
  


Brian arched an eyebrow. He closed the door and then sat back on the sofa, his feet crossed on the coffee table. 

 

“When?”

 

“When? You know when asshole. When you hit my son.”

 

Brian shrugged. “Wasn’t thinking by then.”

 

“Well, go over there and apologize to him.”

 

Brian shook his head. “Not this time.”

 

Debbie took several steps closer to Brian and leaned in 'til they were face to face. Her sharp, bright talon of a fingernail was prodding at his bare chest emphasizing each word.

 

“This time. Every time. You fucking fix this.”

 

Brian didn’t flinch. He didn’t react. “He fucked with my kid. Surely you understand how that might upset a parent”, he was almost smirking and Debbie seemed to miss the irony.

 

“You don’t go around hitting people. Fucking animal.”

 

Brian’s calm demeanor didn’t seem to change. Justin could feel the tension vibrating off of him though. He wanted to put a hand on his knee. He resisted the urge, he was afraid if he moved Debbie would turn on him and he just wasn’t sure what he’d say if that happened.

 

Brian stayed perfectly still as Debbie, still breathing hard from the exertion and anger stood over him. “Michael didn’t mean to hurt Gus.”

 

Brian nodded. “Probably not.”

 

“So stop holding a grudge.”

 

“Not a grudge Debbie. He didn’t mean to hurt him but he did. He didn’t mean to become a fucking myopic little snob but he did that too.”

 

“He is not a snob.”

 

Brian stretched his arms over the back of the sofa and tilted his head. “Really? You sure about that? For a kid you raised to be open minded, he certainly does have a single vision of how one should live life.”

 

Debbie opened her mouth and then shut it again and Brian was reminded of Michael's similar actions earlier today. “Michael has a good heart.” She finally pronounced.

 

“Well, if he’s an organ donor, that’s a positive attribute.”

 

Brian's calm seemed to enrage Debbie more. “He should sue you.”

 

“Have Melanie file the paperwork. I’m sure she missed practicing law up in Toronto.”

 

“Brian what the fuck happened to you?”

 

Brian shook his head. “Go home Debbie. Say hi to Carl for me. Stay out of this. It has nothing to do with you.”

 

“Nothing to do with ME? I’m his mother.”

 

“And he’s almost forty. Let him take responsibility for his actions.”

 

“And what about you. When are you gonna take responsibility for yours?”  
  


“For mine? I’ve always done that. I’ve taken responsibility when they weren’t even mine to take.”

 

Debbie looked confused. Then she shook her head. “He’s right. You really don’t see what you did as wrong.”

 

Brian shook his head. “I didn’t plan to hit him Deb. But he did plan what he did to Gus. What he’s still doing to Gus. You may not want to hear it, but Mikey’s wrong on this one. I know it plays with your world view, but I’m not the asshole in this scenario.”

 

“Bullshit. You hit my kid.”

 

Brian stood up then and walked her towards the door. “He fucked with Gus.”

 

Debbie turned her head to look over her shoulder while Brian’s hand continued to steer her towards the exit. “Sunshine. Talk to him. You know Michael didn’t mean anything by it.”

 

Justin shrugged. “Not my call.”

 

Debbie spun then and Brian cursed. “Not your call? Since when is anything concerning Brian not your call. You’ve been fucking leading him around for the past five years. Don’t bullshit me Sunshine.”

 

Justin stood up to say something but Brian spun Debbie by the shoulder and pushed her less than gently towards the open door. When she was on the other side and it was safely shut and locked he leaned against it. “Fuck.”

 

Justin walked over to Brian and kissed his shoulder. “You okay.”

 

“Fine. Let’s pack.”

 

“Maybe we should stick around. Finish this.”

 

“This won’t be finished in a day.”

 

“Fuck.”

 

“Let’s just go live our lives and let them stew.”

 

Justin nodded and they heard the sound of raised voices on the other side of the door.

 

“Or we could miss our flight and watch the entire family descend on us like vultures.”

 

Justin laughed. Brian looked at him. “This is funny?”  
  


Justin nodded. “Isn’t it? Michael’s an asshole, you call him on it, and now everyone’s here to plead his case or tell you why you suck. Oh and in the end, I’ll get warned to stay away from you.”

 

Brian laughed then too. “Call and reschedule the flight for tomorrow. There’s no way we’re going to make it tonight. And stay upstairs.”

 

“I’m rescheduling the flight but I’m coming back down. You’re not doing this alone.”

 

Brian shook his head. “You can’t help.”

 

“I can’t hurt.” Justin threw over his shoulder and he ran up the stairs to rearrange their travel plans.

 

Brian flung open the door and was met by Ben, Michael, and a still fuming Debbie. Ted was standing in the background.

 

“Theodore. What brings you here?”

 

“Hey Bri, I had some um, papers I thought you should see before you headed out of town and I had to fed-ex them to you.” 

 

Brian nodded and held out his hand for the envelope. Ted slid between Debbie and the doorframe and stood beside Brian. “Plus I really wanted to see this.”

 

Brian pinched his nose. “You’re not helping.”

 

“I didn’t come to help. Like I said, I came to watch.” 

 

“Well then grab yourself a drink and have a seat. I believe the show’s starting soon.”

 

Ted smiled and took a small bottle of tonic water and settled himself in the chair by the bar. He was far enough away to stay out of direct fire, but close enough not to miss anything. 

 

Brian swung his arm in a broad gesture encompassing the rest of the group to enter. They filed in. Debbie glaring at him, Michael looking like he was about to cry, Ben’s expression unreadable.

 

Justin came down as they were all sitting. He put his arm around Brian’s waist. “Didn’t have a flight 'til two tomorrow.”

 

Brian nodded and kissed him. “Thanks. Go sit with Ted and don’t let yourself get sucked into this.”

 

Justin nodded and moved directly to the large chair by the sofa. He put his feet up on the ottoman. Brian shot him a look and he cocked an eyebrow back at him. Brian shook his head and Justin smiled a little. 

 

“What are you all doing here?” Brian started.

 

“You threw me out. I wasn’t finished.”

 

“And you Michael? Did you come to apologize?”  
  


“What the fuck do I have to apologize for? I came to tell you that you’re a piece of shit and you owe ME an apology. Oh that’s right, Brian Kinney doesn’t _do_ apologies.”

 

Brian sat on the arm of Justin’s chair. “I’ve been known to apologize. When I’m wrong.”

 

“Brian.” Ben was obviously trying to use a soothing tone. “I think we’re just all a little concerned about how personally you’re taking this.”

 

“Personally?” Brian leaned towards Ben. “Why aren’t you? It’s your husband who’s too stuck on some past bullshit schoolboy crush to move on. Have you asked Michael what he hopes to accomplish by turning my kid against me?”

 

Ben leaned back and turned his head to Michael. “He wasn’t lying?”  
  


“Lying about what?” Michael’s arms were still crossed in front of him defensively. 

 

“About you continually telling Gus that Brian would let him down.”

 

“Brian doesn’t lie.” Justin added helpfully.

 

Brian shot Justin a look “Shhhh.”

 

“You don’t.” 

 

“Michael, answer me, please.”

 

“He _is_ gonna disappoint Gus.”

 

“And you’re never going to disappoint Jenny?”  
  


“Not if I can help it.”

 

Ben leaned away from Michael. “Do you really think Brian’s gonna disappoint Gus if he can help it?”

 

“He has different priorities.”

 

Ben shook his head. “Like what?”

 

Michael waved towards the tableau in front of them. Justin was leaning back in the oversized chair. Brian was sitting on the arm, Justin’s hand on his thigh, his hand covering Justin's. “That.”

 

“His partner.” Ben said it slowly, quietly. “You think Brian's going to hurt Gus for Justin.”

 

“Or whatever hot guy is around because Justin isn’t.” There was a small look of triumph on Michael’s face. Brian leaned down to kiss Justin. “He’s gone fucking insane.” He whispered in his ear.

 

Justin nodded in agreement. They both remained silent. Even Debbie seemed captivated by Ben's calm even tones and Michael’s barely connected to reality answers.

 

“So you think that because Brian is with Justin, and other men, that he’d intentionally hurt Gus.”

 

“Not on purpose but he’d put getting a blow job ahead of seeing his son.”

 

Brian felt Justin’s hand on his thigh press a little harder and realized he had been about to spring off his perch on the arm of the chair. He squeezed Justin’s hand and remained where he was.

 

“Is that what this is about Michael. Really?”

 

“Yes. Gus is gonna get hurt.”

 

“Like you did.” Brian added.

 

“Yes like I did. I waited and waited, so fucking long for you and you always let me down.”

 

Brian shrugged. “I never made promises to you Michael. You waited even when I told you I couldn’t be there.”

 

“But that didn’t make it hurt less.”

 

Ben took Michael’s hand. “But that didn’t make it Brian’s fault.”

 

“But Gus won’t know that.”

 

“He might. Just because you never figured it out doesn’t mean Gus won’t.” Brian’s voice was dangerously calm.

 

“I did figure it out Brian. I figured you out!”

 

Brian shook his head. “Michael. Go home. Put some more ice on your face. Remind your husband why he doesn’t ditch your ass, because I’m sure he’s wondering. And stay the fuck away from me and my son.”

 

“I’m not gonna let you hurt him Brian!”

 

“It’s not your call. And we’re done Michael. We’re…”

 

Ted had walked over and put a hand on Michael’s shoulder. “Michael. You’re losing it.”

 

“Shut up Ted. What do you know?”  
  


“I know that you’re about to throw away a lot for something you’ve never had.”

 

“Bullshit. What Brian and I have is friendship. He just forgot.”

 

Ted shook his head. “Michael. Brian’s been a good friend to you. Can you say the same?”

 

Michael turned his head to look at Ted. “What the fuck are you talking about, and when did this become about ME and what I did? He’s the one who hit me!”

 

“Michael, calm down.” 

 

Michael ignored Ben and turned his attention to Ted. “Why is this suddenly my fault?”

 

Ted sighed. “Because you did something thoughtless, and ended up hurting an innocent child.”

 

“I didn’t hurt Gus. If I’m responsible for my actions, like everyone keeps saying, isn’t he responsible for his?”

 

“He’s nine.” Brian gritted out. “You’re almost forty.”

 

“So?”  
  


Brian shook his head and Ted took a chair across from the sofa. “Michael.”

 

“Shut up Ted.”

 

Ted shrugged and leaned back. Debbie decided it was time to add her voice to the mix again. “Michael, sweetie, Gus is a kid, but Brian loves him. You can’t question that.”

 

“We’ve seen what happens to people Brian loves.” Michael seemed to be pouting.

 

“And what’s that?” Ben asked. Brian thought he might slap Ben just to hear that stupid calming tone waver. He resisted the urge.

 

“They get hurt. They wait for affection he can’t show. They get bashed. They get fucked over by family. They get blown up.”

 

“What?” Debbie and Brian and Ben didn’t mean to respond in unison but they were all confused.

 

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” Debbie asked.

 

“Think about it Ma. How many times has he hurt Justin, or you, or me?”

 

“Sweetie, you really think he did any of that shit on purpose? You think the bombing was ‘cause of Brian?”

 

“Michael, I know all the people you’re talking about… couldn’t it be my influence that hurt them all?” Ben was holding Michael’s hand now and looking worried. Brian had walked to the other side of the room. He was pouring himself a drink. He brought Justin a beer and Ted another tonic water. He offered Ben a beer but he waved him off. He’d let Debbie and Michael fucking dehydrate. He didn’t care right now.

 

He’d missed something. Michael was crying and Ben was running a hand through his hair and shushing him like a child. Brian looked at Justin questioningly. 

 

“Michael’s upset he doesn’t have a spleen and I think he might have lost his mind.” Justin whispered.

 

Brian nodded. He’d had the same feeling about the insanity part. Ben stood up and ushered Michael out of the loft. Debbie stayed. “I’m sorry Brian. I didn’t know.”

 

“Now you do.”

 

“He’s fucked up.”

 

“No shit.”

 

“It’s not his fault.”

 

“Yes it is.”

 

“He’s upset.”

 

“So fucking what. He fucked with my kid.”

 

“Jesus asshole! Have a little compassion!”

 

Justin stood up now and Brian put a hand on his arm but he shook it off.

 

“He’s upset? No shit Deb.”

 

Debbie opened her mouth and Justin held up a hand. “Don’t fucking tell me to watch my mouth, I’ll say whatever I want. I’m sick of this bullshit. Sick of you, of Michael, of everyone holding Brian responsible for every goddamned thing everyone does. Michael’s upset he lost a spleen? Okay. Guess what? I lost my hand. Twice. Don’t see me taking it out on Brian. And you know what? If I do, that’s my responsibility, my fault. Not Brian’s. He’s not an omnipotent god. He doesn’t actually control the world no matter how convenient it is for you all to think he does.

 

Michael’s upset because he went through some shit. He’s upset because he gave the okay for JR to live so far away and now he can’t see her as much. He’s upset because Brian moved to New York with me. He’s upset because Brian never fucked him. Still not Brian’s fault. Brian hasn’t led him around like a lap dog in years. Brian never made promises to Michael. Brian was there for Michael whenever he needed him.

 

And what does Michael do? He holds on to the bad. He holds on to the pain and he nurses it. He’s a fucking moron Debbie and so are you for defending him. 

 

I know he’s your kid. So fine. Go. Love him. But stay the fuck away from me and stay the fuck away from Brian with your fucking guilt and your fucking bullshit obligations because it’s not Brian’s responsibility to make Michael happy. It’s not Brian’s responsibility to be the kind of dad Michael wanted because he ended up with a fictional army hero and a real life drag queen for a father. Its Brian’s fault that…”

 

Debbie slapped him then and Justin smiled. “See, badmouthing someone’s parenting is enough to make anyone turn to violence.”

 

Debbie straightened her shoulders and turned to leave. “He’s your brother Brian. You don’t just turn your back on your brother.”

 

Justin took Brian’s hand and let Debbie show herself out. 

 

Ted put down his bottle and headed towards the door. “Just drop those papers off before you leave tomorrow.”

 

Brian nodded “hope you enjoyed the show.”

 

“Best theatre I’ve seen in years.”

 

“And Emmett gets the play by play.”

 

Ted smiled again and Brian turned to go upstairs. Justin followed.

 

They heard the door close downstairs and Brian set the alarm. Debbie's handprint was still visible on Justin’s face.

 

“That was brilliant.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“I’m being sincere.”

 

“Oh, then um, thank you?”

 

“You had to actually let her hit you?”  
  


“Yeah, and you know it.”

 

Brian ran his thumb over the fading redness. “You made the point better than I could have.”

 

“I think you could have gotten her to hit you if you’d really wanted.”

 

“She’ll forget though.”

 

“Probably. Novotney’s are not known for their intelligence.”

 

“Think Michael’s really crazy?”

 

“Maybe he’s just dealing with some PTSD shit.”

 

“Like you did?”  
  


“I was fine.”

 

“You ran around with a loaded gun.”

 

“I didn’t blame you.”

 

“I’d have preferred you blamed me.”

 

“I’d have preferred not to get hit in the head with a bat.”

 

“Yeah, me too.” Brian dipped his head and kissed him. “No more provoking Deb.”

 

“It doesn’t hurt that bad.”

 

“I don’t want you getting used to people smacking you.”

 

Justin rolled his eyes. “Yeah, cause you’re the only one allowed to do that.”

 

Brian arched an eyebrow and nodded. Justin smiled and blushed. “Now?”

 

Brian’s voice lowered, “now.”

 

Justin’s eyes met Brian's and then lowered to the floor. Brian slowly pulled Justin’s shirt over his head. His fingers pulled slowly on drawstring of Justin’s sweatpants. When the knot unraveled he dropped it and they fell to the floor. He took Justin's hand and walked him forward. 

 

Justin's entire body was flushed pink. Brian ran a hand down his side. He felt him shiver at his touch. He held him close then. One arm wrapped tightly around his torso, his free hand began to rain slaps hard across that perfect ass.

 

Justin was moaning into his shoulder. Brian was whispering into his ear and trying to keep his own voice low and even. Each blow thrust Justin’s body against his and he felt himself get impossibly harder.

 

“So wet Justin. This is what you wanted isn’t it?”

 

Justin was nodding against Brian’s chest. He was grinding his hard-on against Brian’s denim clad thigh. Brian pushed him away a little. He heard him whimper as if the physical loss of contact hurt. He pushed at his back a little until his hands were gripping the top of the kitchen island. His legs were spread and his back was arched toward Brian’s hand, which was once again raining a series of fast sharp smacks against his ass.

 

He stopped for a minute. Running his thumb from the base of Justin’s jaw line to his eye, wiping the tears. He pushed his tear salted thumb into Justin’s mouth and felt him suck. 

 

He moved his hand lower and pushed into his ass with that same wet thumb. Justin’s body seemed to contract at the intrusion and then open up for him. Brian caressing his reddened skin while he slowly fucked him with just his thumb. 

 

He felt Justin’s body start to respond to the pleasure and he withdrew it. He walked around the counter then. Justin looked up to meet his gaze.

 

“Eyes down.”

 

Brian was rummaging through a drawer and he could see Justin struggling not to look up.

 

“Do I have to blindfold you?”  
  


Justin shook his head, his eyes never leaving the counter top. Brian leaned over and kissed the top of his head. “Good boy.”

 

He saw Justin blush at that and came back with what he’d been looking for. A wide wooden spoon. The blows were sharp, each one eliciting a yelp as he focused on the curve of Justin’s ass and then the inside of his thighs. He landed a few quick slaps directly onto his wet and open hole and Justin dropped his head on the counter then. 

 

Brian continued until Justin’s body seemed about to collapse. He sheathed his own cock then and pulled Justin towards him, impaling him in a single thrust.

 

“Is that what you wanted?” He whispered against Justin’s ear. His tongue flicking out to lick the tears off his face.

 

“God yes. Thank you.”

 

Brian smiled as he thrust into the boy. “You going to antagonize anyone into hitting you again?”

 

“Maybe.” Justin smiled.

 

Brian's hand landed a hard smack on Justin’s hip as he pushed him into the counter and continued to pound into him. “Maybe?”

 

Justin was beyond words. He grunted something and then was purring, actually purring. Brian felt the vibrations in Justin’s chest, in his throat, as he swiped the head of his cock against his prostate. He knew that each time he slammed into his ass he was reminded shapely of his recent spanking and he was thrusting back, angling for more friction. He wanted to feel it.

 

Brian’s fingers were pulling at his nipples now. He was biting at his neck and shoulders. He pulled out completely and waited until he thought he might cry again before pushing back into him and when he came, his entire body did so. His arms gave out and his legs almost buckled. His as tightened around him so hard it almost hurt.

 

Brian wrapped both arms around his waist and held him up, continuing to fuck him until they were both spent and sated. 

 

He pulled out slowly and discarded the condom. Then he turned Justin around and held him against his chest.

 

“You’re a good boy.”

 

Justin looked up and Brian dipped his head, allowing them a moment to share breath before he kissed him. When they pulled apart Justin whispered. “You’re a good man.”

 

Brian held him tighter and together they walked to the bed.


	19. Chapter 19

  
Author's notes: commens here or at my LJ where i'm also vamphile   


* * *

 

 

 

* * *

 

**Keeping It Together**

**Chapter Nineteen**

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Brian smirked when Justin winced as he slid into the cab. 

 

“It’s your fault.”

 

Brian nodded and Justin kissed him. By the time they were home it was almost six. 

 

“Dinner?”

 

“Not hungry.”

 

Brian shrugged and started to unpack. They both heard the buzzer. Justin let Brian finish unpacking and answered the door.

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

“Came to get my mail.”

 

Justin nodded and started sorting through the stack of mail they’d brought up, looking for anything addressed to Aaron. He flung a couple of envelopes towards him and stopped holding one out of Aaron’s reach.

 

“You changed your major again?”

 

“Give it.”

 

“What is it now? Creative basketry?”

 

“Applied mathematics.”

 

“Aaron, you flunked calculus.”

 

“Only once, and I didn’t need it to graduate.”

 

“I think you need it to major in applied mathematics.”

 

“Give it.”

 

Justin handed over the envelope. “That’s your fifth major in three months.”

 

“Sixth if you count the first two weeks when I was undeclared slash liberal arts.”

 

“So stay undeclared 'til you figure out what you want to do.”

 

“I have figured it out. I want to do applied mathematics.”

 

“I don’t even think that’s the term for it. Who’s the guy?”

 

“What guy?” Brian asked as he dumped the laundry in a basket and headed towards the ‘fridge.

 

“Whatever guy Aaron’s seeing that makes him think applied mathematics is the major for him.”

 

“You changed your major again?”

 

“I just did this with Justin.”

 

“I thought you’d finally settled on central infrastructure planning.”

 

“That was last month. Then I switched to criminal justice.”

 

“And now applied mathematics.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“So you just switch majors depending on who you’re fucking?” Justin asked

 

Brian raised an eyebrow. Aaron crossed his arms over his chest. “No. But sometimes those guys have a really interesting take on stuff.”

 

“So you get your future life plans from random tricks?”

 

“They’re not random.”

 

“You have a mathematical system? ‘Cause that’s something I’d love to see applied to mathematics.”

 

Justin bit his lip trying not to laugh. 

 

“How were your trips?”

 

“Eventfully uneventful.”

 

“Huh?” Aaron looked at Brian confused.

 

“He finally talked to Michael.” Justin added.

 

“Cool. Did you guys work things out?”

 

Brian walked away and Justin shook his head.

 

“Why not. He’s…”

 

“Drop it Aaron. And don’t talk to them if they call.”

 

“You can’t tell me who to talk to.”

 

“Fine, don’t talk to them about us.”

 

“The whole world does not revolve around the two of you. That’s not all we talk about.”

 

Justin closed his eyes in exasperation. “Debbie’s gonna start recruiting for her side. Just…”

 

“Let him decide whose side he’s taking.”

 

“Are there really gonna be sides?” Aaron looked from Brian to Justin, both were nodding. “Well fuck that. I’m on your side.”

 

Brian laughed into his beer. “Shouldn’t you get all the facts? Make an informed decision.”

 

“Michael’s an asshat, always has been. He was mean to Gus and now Debbie blames you.” Aaron shrugged. “Not your fault Michael’s an asshat.”

 

“Asshat? Where the fuck do you come up with this shit?”

 

Aaron ignored Justin and sat on the chair across from Brian. He saw the bruises on his hand. “Did you hit him?”

 

Brian shrugged. “I do that sometimes.”

 

“Shit. I thought Justin was the one who went around hitting people.”

 

“He fucked with my kid.”

 

“That’s why he’s an asshat.”

 

Brian shook his head. “Shouldn’t you go home and study some math, apply it to something?”

 

“I don’t have classes tomorrow I told you. Only Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.”

 

“Right.”

 

“So can we order a pizza?”

 

“Where’s your applied mathematician?”

 

“Pfft. That was like a week and a half ago.”

 

Justin handed Aaron some cash. “No extra cheese.”

 

“Whatever.” Aaron pulled out his phone and walked away to place the order. Justin sat down next to Brian. He winced again and Brian did his best not to laugh. “Fuck you. And Jesus, Aaron can’t keep changing his major every time he fucks someone.”

 

“He might stumble on something he likes.”

 

“I think he’s been on a lot of things he likes. But that doesn’t mean he should change his major.”

 

“He’ll figure something out. He’s not as stupid as you think.”

 

“When did you stop thinking Aaron was stupid?”

 

“When he called Michael and asshat.”

 

“Maybe he should be a linguist.”

 

“Maybe he really doesn’t have to worry about it 'til next year. He’s still just taking a filler requirements anyway.”

 

“I guess.”

 

“Don’t we have anything more interesting to worry about?”

 

“Not at the moment.”

 

“‘Til Michael calls you for the next issue of Rage.”

 

“That’s over.”

 

Brian turned to look at him. “Since when?”

 

“Since he became an asshat?”

 

“Justin.”

 

“I couldn’t do it if I were willing to work with him Brian. My arm doesn’t work remember?”

 

“It will.”

 

“We don’t know that.”

 

“When it works again, you can’t give up Rage.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because it brings in a third of your income?”

 

“That? If I’m not doing Rage I have more time for clients.”

 

“You hate space redesign.”

 

“Since when?”

 

Aaron sat down across from them again. “You’ve always hated it.”

 

“Someone should have told me.”

 

“You told us.” Aaron said as he got up again to get himself a beer. “Want one?”

 

Justin shook his head. “I don’t hate space redesign. I just hate…”

 

“Your clients, the job, the fact that it takes no thought on your part, the tedium, the paperwork…” Brian counted them off on his fingers.

 

“Um, yeah, I hate that stuff.”

 

“So what do you like about it?”

 

“Big fat checks.”

 

Brian nodded. “Those are nice. You used to get that for artwork.”

 

“Long time ago.”

 

“You won the Mallmanitz thing.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“So that was twenty grand.”

 

“But I got a check the same day from some idiot in Midtown who wanted to redesign her apartment so that it was more cat friendly. Thirty grand.”

 

“Did you have to actually speak with her?”

 

“Yeah, that was the worst part about the job. What is it with fucking people and their goddamned cats.”

 

Brian shrugged. 

 

“Lee has a cat.” Aaron added.

 

“When did that happen?”

 

“A month or two ago someone was giving away kittens and he got one. It’s really cute.”

 

“But did he spend thirty grand to reconstruct the living room so there’d be a ramp running along the walls for the cat to run on?”

 

“Well, no. But that’s ‘cause he’s not insane.”

 

Brian and Justin both nodded. Aaron turned around and loaded up the new play station game. “Gonna let me kick your ass?” 

 

Brian shook his head and held out his hand for the controller. “Gonna kick yours.”

 

Justin sat back and watched as they played. He ended up answering the door for the pizza guy, and hours later they were all stoned and full and Aaron was rambling about something.

 

“Wait, what?”

 

“I _said_ that when the dorms close for summer break I’m gonna have to go back to Pittsburgh and that I better be able to find a job because I’m not working for Michael this summer.”

 

“You’ll be 21 by then.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“So you can work at Babylon.”

 

“Cool. Can I dance?”

 

“No, you can clean.”

 

“I’d make more money dancing.”

 

“And yet…”

 

“Justin.”

 

“Fine, ask Brian.”

 

“Brian can I dance?”

 

“Sure. But not at Babylon. I only hire hot guys.” Brian’s eyes were closed.

 

“I’m not hot?”

 

“Stop pouting and you’re my half-breed in-law, I never noticed.”

 

“Pfft.” In unison from both Justin and Aaron.

 

“Go dance at boy-toy.”

 

“That place sucks now.”

 

Brian smiled. “‘Cause I stole their bartender, and their DJ.”

 

“I thought the DJ was from Popperz”

 

“He quit. Then I recruited LaVid.”

 

“Oh. Yeah, I remember now.”

 

Brian nodded. “You forget things, brain damage.”

 

“Shut the fuck up.”

 

Brian didn’t open his eyes. He nodded. “Brain damage.”

 

Justin attacked him then, trying to find the ticklish spot on Brian’s ribs. “Take it back.”

 

Brian halfheartedly tried to get Justin off of him. Aaron just sighed. “I’m outta here. If you’re married and stuff, shouldn’t you be over the PDA’s?”

 

“We’re not married.” Justin said as he continued to run his fingers along Brian’s torso. 

 

“You so are.” Aaron said before he closed the door behind him.

 

Brian's arms were wrapped around Justin. “He knows we’re not married.”

 

“I’m not so sure.”

 

“We know we’re not married.”

 

“I’m not so sure.”

 

“Come to bed and I’ll show you things I’d never do to a wife.”

 

Justin nipped at Brian's ear. “What makes you so sure I’m the wife?”

 

Brian didn’t say another word. There was an awful lot of communication though.

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

 

Brian slammed down the phone in his office. In three weeks not a day went by when he didn’t get a call from Michael or Debbie or both. Ted had been smart enough never to mention it again but those two were still trying. He had a feeling there was no way out of attempting, once again, to end the bullshit. He couldn’t think about it now.

 

Remson was getting flack for not providing the medication to foreign countries at lower costs. The GLBT community was up in arms about it. Brian was trying to design a general ad campaign about the generous benefactor Remson was. 

 

He’d gone through three receptionists in the last four and a half months and the temp he had now sucked. He needed a gatekeeper like the first one but she’d apparently been a little on the touchy side. Brian shook his head. One little snap…okay, large snap and she acted as though he’d actually taken her head off. She’d confronted him in his office, explaining her position on his rudeness and requesting an apology.

 

He’d laughed.

 

She’d quit.

 

He needed to clone Cynthia.

 

She walked into his office. “We find a decent receptionist yet?”

 

She shook her head. He glared. “Doesn’t work. Glare all you want. I can’t make someone willing to put up with you and able to handle the high call volume. and Michael and Debbie, appear out of thin air.”

 

Brian dropped his stare, the only acknowledgement he’d make to her common sense. “We need someone.”

 

“No shit.”

 

“Someone for what?” 

 

Brian sighed. “Aaron, what the fuck are you doing here?”

 

“Came to see if you wanted to grab lunch.”

 

“It’s three thirty.”

 

“So?”

 

“I’m working.”

 

“But…”

 

“Go away.”

  
”You need someone for what?”

 

“As a receptionist, you want the job.”

 

“Yeah!”

 

“Fuck. No.”  
  


“But I could stay with Matt for the summer, Becca’s going on a dig. And I CAN keep Debbie and Michael at bay.”

 

Brian considered it. He glanced over to Cynthia who was smiling. “Did you fucking plan this?” She shook her head. He had a feeling she was lying. “Fine. Fuck up once and you’re gone.” He turned his attention back to the smirking blonde in killer Manolo’s “show him how to work the phones. And Aaron.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Brian sighed. “Talk to your brother, he’ll go with you to get appropriate office wear. You are not wearing a concert tee and jeans in my office.”

 

“Sheesh.” Aaron saw Brian's expression and smiled “fine. Classes are over next week, I can start Wednesday.”

 

Brian nodded. “After you finish your finals.”

 

“Duh.”

 

Aaron left and Brian took the boards Cynthia had handed him. They sucked. “I’ll call creative and tell them you’re on your way.”

 

He shook his head. “Let it be a surprise.”

 

She nodded.

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

 

When Brian got home there was music blaring from the studio. He changed clothes and knocked on the door before pushing it open. 

 

Justin looked up from a painting. “Hi.”

 

“Hey, I’m going out, wanna come?”  
  


Justin shook his head. “I think I’m getting somewhere.”

 

Brian moved closer, standing behind him. “It’s not bad.”

 

“Yeah it is, but I’m rusty.”

 

“Arm okay?”

 

“PT was a bitch today but it’s getting better, they’re saying 85 –90% motor control now.”

 

Brian ran his hand slowly down Justin’s forearm. “That’s improvement.”

 

“Yeah.” Justin was smiling. He turned his head and Brian kissed him. “Later.”

 

“Later.”

 

Brian left and Justin turned the music back up. He knew he should be worried about Brian. He knew he’d been distant and pulling away lately but he was too excited about being able to paint again, and it was time. Brian did this; he pulled back, especially after the kind of bullshit they’d been through since they moved to New York. He shook his head. They’d be fine. This was Brian, the real Brian, doing what he always did.

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

 

Brian’s POV

 

This is the part where I stop thinking. I like this part. Fuck. It’s not working. I’ve been trying for three fucking weeks to get this thinking shit to stop. I can’t. This guy’s not half bad and maybe I should be fucking him instead of just getting a blowjob but for now, this should do. And I can feel it start and my head clears for a moment. I come down his throat and zip myself up and walk away. He doesn’t follow. Good.

 

Except… I’m still fucking thinking. It’s pissing me off.

 

I gesture to the barkeep and he pours me a couple more shots and slides a beer towards me. I give him some cash and nod. He’s not bad. Maybe later.

 

I down the first shot quickly. Well, first shot since in the last half hour anyway. I’m drinking the second one more slowly and I turn to check out the talent. Not much to speak of. But then when you’ve got the kind of talent I do waiting for me at home.

 

FUCK!

 

That’s the thinking I’ve been trying to avoid. And no, I’m not gonna ask myself how or when it happened, because I’ve been over it and fucking over it and it just did. Whatever. It happened and all I can do now is fucking deal.

 

And that’s what’s making my fucking head hurt all goddamned day and night. How the fuck do I deal with the fact that we _are_ fucking married. Yeah, I could leave. Hell, he could leave. We’re not fucking leaving. We both know that. No one should be this lucky. No one is this lucky. _I’m_ sure as hell not this lucky. So what the fuck. Why is there a hot blonde who knows and likes me living in my place?

 

Fuck. _our_ place. And it’s not about being afraid he’s gonna find something better. Brain damage was permanent it seems, he’s not looking, he’s not considering. And it’s not like I think I could do better. To use his favorite expression, “Pfft.” Better? Where? Who? 

 

But then there’s this other bullshit. The real reason that I don’t want to believe in love. That I’ve always been able to depend on fucking. If you can get off, then you’re fine, that’s all there is to fucking.

 

That’s not all there is to this. To us. There’s bullshit. Huge amounts of it and it’s pissing me off. 

 

Life sucks. Everyone over the age of ten knows that. Fuck, my kid figured it out early, but I always knew he was smart. Plus, with me for a father, yeah, he’s gonna recognize that life sucks. But dammit. It’s been sucking pretty fucking hard lately for me. For us. 

 

Less than sixth months ago it was all new. Okay, it was all old, and comfortable, and new, and all at the same time. Then fucking brain damage. Christ. That kid and his fucking head. Should have known there was something fucking wrong with him. Not last year, but since the fucking bashing. He’s… He’s Justin. And he comes with baggage, tons of it, and fuck so do I. That’s the part that’s supposed to make it not work but that’s still working.

 

The rest of it’s what’s fallen to hell. Remson’s taking a beating in the press. How the fuck are they supposed to make money giving the goddamned shit away? I hear a lot of people crying and screaming. I don’t see anyone coughing up the dough to finance it though. KinnetiK does. Fifteen percent of the Remson profits go towards the providing the pills to the Vic Grassi house and a couple of other hospices that need it. I’m not advertising that. I’m not doing it to bail them the fuck out of this. I’ll do that with pretty pictures and heartfelt proclamations of hope. And the people will buy it.

 

Justin’s falling apart. I’m not supposed to notice that. I’m supposed to ignore the fact that he’s taken on more fucking design clients when he doesn’t want to and doesn’t have to. That he stays up painting but won’t show me a finished fucking canvas. I’m not sure if he hates what he’s creating or can’t finish. Either way, not good. Kid told me once that the best way to let the assholes know they haven’t won… the best way to let yourself know that the assholes haven’t won, is to create something…so what’s he creating? Nothing. Cash flow. We don’t fucking need his cash flow.

 

And speaking of Justin falling apart, have I mentioned he had brain fucking surgery? We can play the brain damage teasing game. I can play it down to his mommy, and to Aaron, but motherfucker. Brain surgery. And I held it together. The way I’m supposed to. Like a good husband, and now what?

 

Now I’ve got this fucking ragged, sharp edged fear that they fucked up. What if they didn’t get it all? If he loses his hand again, or has to go through this again, only worse. How the fuck am I gonna hold it together then? How the fuck am I even holding it together now?

 

And fucking Michael. Gus will be here in a month, and hopefully Lindsay will stay for a while, if not for good, but what the fuck am I supposed to do about Michael.

 

He is my brother. That’s the part that I don’t understand. How the fuck can he be so blind to someone he’s known so fucking long.

 

Debbie keeps spouting the letters PTSD like it’s some kind of panacea. It isn’t. PTS fucking D? Yeah, we all have that. It’s called being an adult. Justin’s was bad, but he… okay, he left me for a greasy violinist, but he eventually came to his senses, and the only person he hurt was me. And hell, I was just as responsible for that bullshit as he was. And he never did actually shoot anyone. 

 

Michael’s a different story. He went out of his way to hurt Gus. He admits that. He did it so Gus would hurt a little instead of being hurt a lot by me. That’s what he says. That’s his story. That’s bullshit. It might even be true, doesn’t make it less bullshit. What the fuck am I supposed to do with the fact that he thinks I’m as bad as my father?

 

What the fuck am I supposed to do without a best friend… fuck, we’re back to Justin. The kid is goddamned everywhere, in my life, in my head. This guy’s hot.

 

I’m whispering something in his ear and he nods. Like there was a question. I’m still thinking about what an asshole Michael is. I’m still thinking about the fact that Justinis my best friend. And I’m sliding inside this guy. He grunts and I smile. Yeah, this I can do. 

 

He’s hot. His ass is smooth and his skin is darker than mine and he’s tall, maybe even taller than I am. He’s tight too. He reaches a hand back to my hair and I wrap my fingers around his wrists and pin him to the wall. Not really looking for any unspoken words of affection. Just looking to get off… he likes it. I like it. He comes. I come. We’re done. I’m back at the bar swallowing another shot.

 

It’s almost four. I should probably head home. It’s good that I got out. Got a lot of shit figured out…right. This used to work. Why the fuck isn’t it working?

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

 

Justin’s POV

 

He’s home.

 

Good. I hate when he stays out too late. Since the mugging I get antsy if he’s not home by four but I won’t say anything. He’s pulling away. It’s okay. He needs to. But I’m not gonna push him further by asking for shit that he’s not in the mood to give. Shit I don’t really need.

 

It’s not like I NEVER go out. I do. I have. Matt and Jamison are seeing each other. It’s still new but it seems real. We’ve all been to dinner, the four of us, a couple of times. That’s when I go out…alone. Because Brian needs that to. A couple’s dinner, a double date. Yeah, I’d rather have him fuck three guys and come home to me than… well, not come home to me, so It’s good. 

 

It’s not like I’m totally fine with the whole domesticity thing either. The next person to call him my husband or tell me we’re married… I’m going pink posse on their ass. 

 

We are married. But does everyone have to point it out. Would they do that if I had a mole, or a crippling disease? Would they constantly smile at me and say, “it’s nice to see you have a big mole and lost both your legs. It’s sweet.” No. So why is it so important to point out the other obvious flaws in my perfect life. I’m married. Oh and I have brain damage. Oh, and the guy I’m married to… he’s fucking insane. Yeah, life is pretty sweet.

 

It actually is. Except Brian’s doing that thing. He’s good at it. He’s great in a crisis. Never wavered. Only fell apart where I couldn’t see. Crisis over. Then BAM! The Michael thing hit hard. Didn’t expect it to go like that. Thought they might be able to forgive and forget. They did it before the non-wedding. But Michael pulled Gus into it. That’s the end of that. Over.

 

Now what? He calls daily. I know he calls Brian too. And now that Aaron’s playing gatekeeper the three of us are gonna get sucked back into this. Which I don’t care about for myself but Brian…he’s so not okay. 

 

He’s falling apart now that he has the time. He’s worried about the Remson backlash, but I’m not. I should be. But I have faith that Brian will fix it. He does that… he fixes shit. It used to be hero worship. It’s not. Not anymore. I used to think he could fly in like Rage and just rescue everyone. Then I started to pay attention to the man behind the curtain…

 

He works hard at that rescuing people bullshit. Really hard… but it gets the job done. And I’ll back off. I don’t say anything when he goes out. I don’t care if he goes out. That’s good… it’s healthy, he needs it. What I do worry about is that he’s afraid of me.

 

Well, not me. He’s afraid that I’m gonna get sick again. He can handle a lot of shit, and he does it well, he’s really not all that comfortable with the concept of me not being okay. It’s weird. I know his world doesn’t revolve around me. I know he’s not the center of my universe, but US…

 

That stupid thing we have. This beautiful, electric, painful, stupid thing we have. That’s the center of both our worlds. We’ve tried separately but it doesn’t matter. We were just sucking things into the black hole created when we’re too far apart. And it doesn’t matter where we are geographically as long as we’re together emotionally.

 

And now we’re fucking fused together. Entangled. Married. There’s no way out. Neither of us are going anywhere anyway, but if he left. If he got hurt. If the cancer came back. If he died. The other half of my life would be a black hole. The other half of myself. And he knows the same thing.

 

And that’s why he’s pulling away and freaking out. Because the other half of his life almost did become a black hole.

 

We never talk about that. We talk about almost everything. And we give things cute nicknames and we joke and we laugh and we bicker and we fuck but we never talk about the fact that I stopped breathing on the table. We never talk about the fact that I could have died. 

 

And so he’s off, getting drunk, getting his needs met. And I’m painting, a little. I can’t finish anything. I can’t create anything worthwhile, but I’m painting, and sketching, andwanting again. 

 

I missed wanting to paint. I’m keeping the design business because I need a fucking income. I’m keeping it because it’s good to do something that pays the mortgage. It’s nice to be doing something and to want to stop so I can paint. I’m doing it because Rage IS over. Let Michael find another artist. I’m done. Except I own half of it. So I’m not sure how that’s gonna go.

 

Brian wants me to do another issue. I can’t. I’d have to kill Rage. I can’t do that. So…

 

There’s no conclusion to come to. Wish there were but there isn’t.

 

He’s on top of me now. Drunk, really drunk. He smells good. Like whisky and cigarettes and sex and his cologne and someone else’s and I’m hard and he’s leering at me.

 

He’s fucking leering at me.

 

I sniff his neck and try to picture who he fucked but he’s shaking his head, like he can read my mind and knows I got it wrong. I don’t care. I’m pushing his shirt off of him. He’s trying to say something but he’s really drunk so I shove my tongue down his throat, it’s better that way.

 

He’s grinding against me. He took off his boots before he sprawled on top of me. The rest of his clothes are still here. I’m working to get rid of them. Coat, shirt, gone. Wife beater… I pull on it and he sort of half collapses on me while I pull it over his head. I toss it to the side. All that’s left are his jeans and those are easy. Button fly, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop. He’s helping a little but he’s not much help.

 

I want him. He wants me. I don’t care that I don’t know what the fuck to do about the rest of it.

 

His hands are on me now. He’s whispering my name. FUCK! He never does that.

 

“Justin, Justin, Justin, Justin, Justin.” Oh my fucking god I’m gonna come before he even really touches me. He’s slurring my name into my shoulder. I move his head and kiss him and now he’s breathing it into my mouth.

 

He’s so fucked up. I’m probably taking advantage of him. Yeah, I’ll save the worry about that for when I’m not married to the world’s largest libido. I’m rolling the condom on him and he’s growling. Yeah, fuck him, this drunk he’d fuck me raw. No one else. I’m not worried about that but with me…he wants to. I want to. But one of us has to be sane. I think it’s my turn.

 

His fingers are in me now. He doesn’t have to think about this part. Neither do I. It’s familiar and still so fucking good. And I’m arching against him and he’s locking his eyes with mine and still whispering my name. He’s lost the T. “Jussin…” yeah, he’s pretty fucking wasted. 

 

I wrap my legs around his back. I cross my ankles and he slides into me slowly. Oh fuck. He’s… oh god, it’s so fucking good. And I want more. And I want it all and I want it NOW. 

 

And he’s pumping into me. His hand pushing my hair off my face, his eyes never leaving mine. He’s so good at whispering the dirtiest fucking things I’ve ever heard. Shit I’d never admit to wanting…he says it in my ear and I want it, I NEED it and I don’t care who knows.

 

Tonight though there’s nothing dirty about it, it’s just my name. Over and over again and I’m arching against him and fuck… I look up and he’s got a fucking tear in his eye. He’s… Brian Kinney is crying. And I wrap my arms around him and hold him. He’s inside me, and he’s surrounding me, and he’s shaking. And I’ve never wanted him or needed him so much in my life. And I know it’s wrong, and I know it’s sick, and I know he’s not fucking me anymore. But he’s heaving against me and each time he does he moves inside me and now I’m coming, hard. And he looks up, and he feels it and smiles through those fucking tears…and then he buries his head in the crook of my neck and he just stays. 

 

On me, in me, with me. He’s just there. And whatever scared him…I’m thinking it’s me. It’s okay, because what else can it be when the world’s most beautiful man can’t stop saying your name, even when he’s probably too drunk to remember his own?


	20. Chapter 20

 

 

 

* * *

 

**Keeping It Together**

**Chapter Twenty**

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Justin came home exhausted. Aaron was positively bouncy. Brian ignored them both until Aaron’s incessant enthusiasm elicited a reply. “What the fuck are you so happy about?”

 

“I got cool clothes.”

 

“For work. Welcome to the world of mind numbing drudgery.”

 

“Yeah, you both seem sooo miserable.” 

 

Neither said anything. They weren’t miserable. Neither was sure how happy the other was. Aaron looked from Brian to Justin and back again. “Did I miss something?”

 

Justin shook his head. “No. When do we have to move your stuff to Matt’s?”

 

“Becca’s not leaving 'til the first, I’m moving in on the second, but Lee and Matt are gonna help. You don’t have to.”

 

“I can help.”

 

“You only have one hand.” 

 

Brian looked up to gage Justin’s reaction. There didn’t seem to be one. “Cool at least my gimp hand is good for something. I get outta moving duty.” He sat in the lounge chair and leaned his head back, eyes closed.

 

“Headache?”

 

Justin nodded.

 

Brian froze.

 

Justin opened his eyes and then gestured towards Aaron. “He does not stop talking.” He watched Brian take a breath and cursed himself. Fuck. Brian scared easily about that kind of shit. He stood up. “Just need some water and a couple aspirin.” Brian nodded and Aaron grabbed his bags and left. 

 

“See you at the office tomorrow.”

 

Brian said nothing as Aaron disappeared into the hallway. “Fucking kids.”

 

“I know. And Gus is coming in three weeks.”

 

“He’s not as annoying as your half-breed.”

 

“Probably not. Few are.”

 

“I’m going out.” Brian threw over his shoulder as he headed to the bedroom to change.

 

“I’ve got work to finish before my plane leaves.”

 

“Call when you get in.”

 

“Or if I’m dead.”

 

“Or that.”

 

Brian left and Justin worked slowly and deliberately on his latest project. He’d finished everything he had to do for the San Francisco client. He’d finally gotten around to rescheduling that job and was surprised they hadn’t found anyone else but they had been willing to wait. He silently thanked Martin for keeping the business from completely dying while he recovered. It wasn’t a full recovery yet, but he was able to work. 

 

He headed to the bedroom to pack and smiled. Brian had left his suitcase on the bed for him. He unzipped it and smile wider. He’d packed for him. He zipped it back up and grabbed the CD from his laptop, packed the laptop up and headed out. He had an errand to run before he got on the plane.

 

It was nine am the next day before the plane landed safely and Justin could call.

 

“Here.”

 

“And alive.”

 

“What more could I ask for.”

 

“You at the hotel?”

 

“In a cab on my way.”

 

“Any appointments I should know about?”

 

“I told you last time.”

 

“Anything to tell me this time?”

 

“No.”

 

“Gotta go. Remson wants something.”

 

“Don’t they always.”

 

“The campaign starts tomorrow. We’ll see how it goes.”

 

“It’ll work. You know that.”

 

“One can only hope.”

 

“Brian.”

 

“It’ll work. It has to.”

 

“I have faith.”

 

“In the weirdest shit.”

 

“In you.”

 

“Gotta go.”

 

“Bye.”

 

Justin closed the phone and took a deep breath. They’d have to actually talk at some point. He hadn’t wanted to bring it up before he left, fights followed by flights were never productive. They’d learned that the hard way over the years. He paid the fare and checked into the hotel. His meeting wasn’t 'til later in the evening. He fell asleep.

 

The alarm on his life keeper went off at three. He hit the mute button and sat up groggily checking for messages. Two from Michael, one from Debbie, one from Matt, three from Aaron. None from Brian.

 

He called Aaron first.

 

“What’s up?”

 

“What?”

 

“You called me three times.”

 

“Oh, I’m figuring out the new phone system and I was trying to program your number into speed dial.”

 

“From your phone?”

 

“I kept checking the number and hitting send by mistake.”

 

“Aaron, he’s got my number on speed dial. He doesn’t call me from the office phone.”

 

“I might need to.”

 

“Cut it out. I’ve got shit to do.”

 

“I’m trying to be proactive.”

 

“Just be quiet. He’ll appreciate that more.”

 

“He’s in a bad mood.”

 

“No shit.”

 

“Is he always like this at work?”

 

“The day before a new campaign? Yeah. Just leave him the fuck alone.”

 

“Can I take him out?”

 

“You mean go with him somewhere, let him pay for all your drinks and then have him rescue you from some overzealous old guy?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You don’t need my permission. Ask him. But take no for an answer. If he doesn’t want to go he doesn’t want to.”

 

“What’s wrong with you two?”  
  


Justin froze. “What are you talking about?”  
  


“You’re both so… I don’t know… it’s like you talk to each other through me.”

 

“Since when?”

 

“Since last week. It’s creepy. Cut it out.”

 

“I’m not talking to him through you. I talk to him all the time. We fucking live together.”

 

“That’s what you do when you’re married.”

 

“You have a death wish.”

 

“I have a job. I have to go do it.”

 

“Fine. Leave him alone.”

 

“See.”

 

“That’s not talking to him through you. That’s giving you a direct command.”

 

“Yes _sir_.”

 

Justin hung up. He deleted the calls from Debbie and Michael and decided to call Matt back later. He showered and met the client at their new proposed space. He set up his laptop and measured out the basics. The client was cruising him. He was also kind of hot. He remained business like but didn’t shrug the man’s hand off his shoulder or pull away from his touch when he put his hand over Justin’s to move something on the screen just a little to the left.

 

Justin looked over his shoulder and offered him a mini mega watt smile. “That’s good.”

 

“You should see what I have planned for the bedroom.”

 

Justin tried not to roll his eyes. He considered adding a surcharge to all clients who used that angle. He’d discarded it because he hadn’t been able to come up with a decent title on the bill. He and Brian had laughed about it as they tried to find the appropriate sounding category.

 

“Bullshit tolerance fee?”

 

“Cheesy pickup tax?”

 

“In your dreams charge?”

 

“Not in this lifetime gratuity.”

 

“Maybe. If you hadn’t just said _that_ cost.”

 

Brian had laughed. Yeah, none of them had been funny. Yeah, they had both been stoned. They’d found it pretty fucking funny. Back when they used to talk and find shit funny. When the fuck did that stop? Justin realized that Grayson, the client, was waiting for him to answer.

 

“I’m sorry. What?”

 

“I asked if you’d like a glass of wine?”

 

“Oh, yeah, white. Can’t stand red. Thanks.”

 

“Really. Most blondes love red wine.”

 

“Yeah, I’m told a lot that I’m not most blondes.”

 

Grayson laughed too hard at that and Justin knew he had to make a decision. He waited 'til he turned his back to really check him out. Good body, not too tall, hairline maybe receding, or maybe just a really high forehead. Slim, good hands, he noticed as he took out two wine glasses. Justin shrugged internally. _There are worse ways to kill an evening._

 

Several hours later Justin pulled on his pants and packed up his laptop. Grayson walked him to the door and they shook hands. “The plans should be ready for your approval next week.” Grayson smiled warmly and Justin pulled his hand away and turned to leave.

 

“When construction starts I suppose I’ll need to stay in a hotel for a bit.”

 

Justin heard the unspoken invitation and shook his head. “I probably won’t be in town then.”

 

Grayson shrugged. “We’ll speak soon.” 

 

Justin nodded and didn’t look back as he took the stairs. He wasn’t in the mood to wait for the elevator. 

 

It was just after eleven when he got back to the hotel. His phone rang. He smiled.

 

“Hey.”

 

“These are good.”

 

“I wasn’t sure they came.”

 

“You’re hand that much better?’

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I like ‘em.”

 

“Thought you would. You kept meaning to get something more…”

 

“Better?”

 

“Yes. More better.”

 

“Don’t roll your eyes.”

 

“Whatever. How are you?”

 

“Dazzling.”

 

“Mmm hmmm.”

 

“You don’t believe me?”

 

“Can we talk about this when I get home?”

 

“There’s something to talk about?”

 

“Well, now that we live together I guess the whole communication thing can get fucked.”

 

“Yeah, that never really worked for us.”

 

“We’ll just go back to fucking and fighting and not talking about anything important.”

 

“When did we do that?”

 

“For the first three years of our relationship.”

 

“Your first three years or mine?”

 

“Mine. According to you we’ve only been together since January.”

 

“I could be wrong.”

 

“You’re admitting you’re wrong?”

 

“I’m saying I _could_ be. I’m probably not.”

 

“You rarely are.”

 

“You’re in a good mood.”

 

“You too.”

 

“How was the client?”

 

Justin kicked off his shoes and leaned against the headboard. He cradled the phone between his shoulder and ear while he pulled his laptop out. “Not bad.”

 

“Less pretentious than the upper east side loft refurbish?”

 

“He used the bedroom line.”

 

“Christ. Does that still even work?”

 

Justin said nothing and Brian laughed. “Guess it does.”

 

“Only if I’m willing to ignore it.”

 

“So tell me about him.”

 

“Not much to tell.”

 

“I wanna know, what’d you do?”

 

“I fucked him.”

 

“Mmmmmm.”

 

“Brian?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“What the fuck is wrong?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

“The cards are good.”

 

“We covered that. You’re changing the subject.”

 

“Nothing’s wrong.”

 

“You’re such a fucking liar.”

 

“Me? How’s the hand holding up Sunshine?”

 

“I made the cards didn’t I?”

 

“And now?”

 

Justin concentrated for a second on his hand and felt the vague buzzing numbness that accompanied pushing it too hard. “It’s a little numb.”

 

“Because you made the cards when you knew you were gonna work on the flight and then push even harder when you got to the space.”

 

“Part of the job.”

 

“Rest your hand.”

 

Justin was typing and he heard the click of Brian’s lighter. “Thought you were cutting back on the smoking.”

 

“Your hand’s numb and you won’t shut the fucking computer.”

 

“I want to get down the ideas while they’re still fresh. I might forget. Brain damage.”

 

“Cut it the fuck out.”

 

“Brian. I’ll talk to you when you’re in a better mood.” Justin hung up the phone. His hand was about to give out. He knew it. He typed furiously for a few more minutes, saved his work and shut the machine.

 

He fell asleep and woke several hours later in a cold sweat. Fucking nightmares. But the nightmare wasn’t what had caused him to wake. His phone was ringing. He picked it up.

 

“Sorry.”

 

“For what?”

 

“I was about to call you.”

 

“Figured I woke you up.”

 

“Had to get up to answer the phone anyway.”

 

“You’re out of breath.”

 

“Startled.”

 

“You sound hot.”

 

“I’m not. I’m freezing, and sweating.”

 

“Nightmare?”

 

“Possibly. Don’t remember.”

 

“I… um… I…”

 

“I know.”

 

“Know what.”

 

“What you’re gonna say.”

 

“How the fuck can you know when I don’t?”

 

“Brian. Hang up.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“No. Seriously. Hang up. I’ll call you back in a minute.”

 

He heard the line go dead. Justin took a deep breath and moved slowly towards the bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face and gave himself a few more seconds to pull himself together. Fuck. If they were gonna be this fucked up… revert to default settings. He smiled to himself. That always worked.

 

He hit speed dial.

 

“Brian. Don’t say anything.”

 

He heard a grunt and the sound of Brian exhaling smoke. “Are you stoned?”

 

“Thought I wasn’t supposed to say anything.”

 

“Okay, only answer my questions. Are you stoned?”

 

“A little.”

 

“Good. Are you naked?”

 

“Yeah. You?”

 

“Yeah. You know what’s wrong?”

 

“What?”

 

“You’re not fucking me.”

 

“Never has been one of our problems.”

 

“Is right now. I want you.”

 

“What do you want me to do?”

 

He heard the catch in Brian’s voice and knew they were back on the same page. “I want you to lie back. I want to kiss you. Your chest. Your nipples. Do you feel my mouth there?”

 

He heard Brian’s breathing change a little. He smiled. “I’m biting them, just a little, pulling on them with my teeth the way you like. You do like that right?”

 

“Yes.” It was almost a whisper. 

 

“Are you in bed?”

 

“On the chair.”

 

“Even better. I love that chair. Do you know why?”

 

There was silence. “Brian?”

 

“Why?”

 

“You’re touching yourself.”

 

“You’re not here to do it for me.”

 

“I wish I were. I love that chair. I love riding you on that chair. Your arms over your head… just letting me. I want that now.”

 

“Justin….”

 

“Shhhh. You can’t talk when I’m kissing you.”

 

Justin’s hands were stroking his own body. Sometimes Brian might start with his hands gripping the top of the chair…it never lasted. They always ended up on him. Stroking down his chest, kneading his ass, gripping his hips. “Your hands are on me now. And you’re lowering me onto you. God. You’re stretching me…sooo good.”

 

Justin clicked the button on his phone and Brian had taken a picture of himself. His hand splayed down his own chest. “Brian.”

 

“Yeah. You’re riding me Justin but I’m still the one running the show aren’t I?”

 

…………..

 

“Justin.”

 

Justin couldn’t talk…he was smiling too wide but he didn’t let Brian know that. “Always.” He lied. _A little._

 

“My hands are on your waist. Do you feel them?”

 

And he did. He felt the soft, secure grip as Brian’s fingers dug into the flesh of his hips.

 

“Did you unpack?”

 

“I’m only here for a day.”

 

“Check your suitcase.”

 

“Brian I told you not to…”

 

“Do it.”

 

Justin knew just what he was looking for and he found it. They were so often on the same fucking page. “Is that why you packed for me?’

 

“Would you have packed it?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Liar.”

 

“Show me Justin.”

 

Justin’s fingers were sliding the lube along the shaft. He lay back and angled the camera as the broad blunt head slid inside him. He hit send quickly.

 

“Christ Justin.”

 

Justin hit the button again to see the picture of Brian’s hand around his own cock. He saw the head glistening with precum and Brian’s fingers grasped gracefully around it. “I feel you Brian.”

 

“Do you. I’m sliding into you slowly. Slowly Justin.” 

 

Justin mewled a little and Brian praised him. “So tight and hot. So fucking good.”

 

“Oh god fuck me.”

 

“I’m lifting you off me again Justin, twisting your hips.”

 

“God yes.” Justin pulled the phallus out of himself and plunged it back in, snapping a quick shot as it slid between his cheeks. His cock hard and leaking against his stomach. 

 

He knew when Brian got the image. There were no words just a gasp. “Now Justin, I’m putting my hands over my head and letting you go. So hot when you focus like that. Eyes dark blue, tongue poking out just a little.” Brian was almost breathless.

 

Justin snapped a shot of his face. He knew he was wearing the expression Brian was describing. He groaned a little. “Brian, god, you’re so fucking beautiful like this. 

 

Justin glanced quickly at the new picture. Brian’s arm was above his head gripping the top of the chair. His lean frame beautiful. His eyes dark with desire. Justin licked his lips and moaned. He heard Brian do the same.

 

“Do you feel me around you Brian. Do you feel me taking all of you… laying across your chest and rocking back and forth, just sliding a little bit. I don’t want you to come yet. I want this to last.”

 

“Not going anywhere.” Brian gritted out and Justin knew he wanted to come.

 

“Squeezing you. Right at the base, the way you love. The way that makes you almost whimper.”

 

Justin looked at the phone again and Brian’s hands were doing what he wanted his own body to be doing to him. “So good when you’re inside me like this.”

  
”So good.” Brian repeated. His breathing was uneven and his voice was deep and gravely and Justin felt it wash over him like a warm blanket of desire. 

 

“Don’t stop.”

 

“Never gonna stop fucking you Justin. That tight, hot little ass. I’m pounding into you now. My hands holding you up and I’m slamming up into you.”

 

“God yes. More.” Brian’s voice was driving Justin as hard as the cock inside him. He angled it again and let out a low grunt of pleasure. 

 

“Again”

 

Justin did it again. Images of Brian swimming behind his eyelids as he lost himself to everything but the sound of his voice and the feel of him sliding in and out of his body. 

 

“Again. Harder."

 

Justin instinctively followed Brian’s descriptions with his own fingers. “So close Brian.”

 

“Not yet. Not 'til I’m ready.”

 

Justin settled the phone by his ear and began stroking himself with his free hand. He heard Brian’s breathing. He heard his voice lower even more and knew he was close to. He also knew how to drive him over the edge.

 

“Please. Brian. Please let me. I’ll be your good boy.”

 

“Come for me.”

 

Justin groaned and stroked himself faster. “Now Brian. Come with me. Now.”

 

And they heard each other as they gasped out their own orgasms. Justin heard Brian’s sharp intake of breath as he caught the last picture he’s sent. His come splattering across his belly, the dildo buried deep inside him. 

 

They both stayed on the line, neither saying anything for a while.

 

“You should sleep.”

 

“So should you.”

 

“I’ll be home by two.”

 

“G’night.”

 

Justin let Brian sever the connection first.

 

He dozed for a while still feeling Brian inside him.

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

 

When Justin got home the place was empty. Not surprising. Brian did have a lot of work to do. Some of the newer tech clients were breaking big. Remson’s campaign had hit and the polls and research group results were coming back. He slid his suitcase towards the laundry room and went to his office to check his messages.

 

Three from Michael, two from Debbie. One from his mother and two from Brian. He called his mother first. He wanted to talk to Brian when he didn’t have fifteen other things to do.

 

“You called me back.”

 

“Why wouldn’t I?”

 

“Debbie said…”

 

“I don’t call her back.”

 

“Because of the Michael situation?”

 

“That’s all she wants to talk to me about…. Shit. She didn’t recruit you did she?”

 

“No. She tried but I don’t really understand the situation enough to take sides.”

 

“Michael’s a selfish prick. He hurt Gus. Brian’s supposed to forgive him. He’s not gonna.”

 

“He hit Michael.”

 

“So?”

 

“Justin… has he ever…”

 

“Ever what?”  
  


“You know… has Brian ever…”

 

“Oh holy hell. No.”

 

“You’re sure?’

 

“I think I’d remember if Brian ever hit me. I think you’d remember because I’d have ended up sleeping on your sofa.”

 

“It’s just…he loves Michael so much. They’re best friends and if he could…”

 

“Mom. Drop it. You’ve got no idea what you’re talking about. Besides, they’re like brothers. That’s what brothers do.”

 

“Since when. Do you hit Aaron?”

 

“No. But he’s only a half-breed.”

 

“Justin. You’re not making a whole lot of sense.”

 

“Whatever. What did you need?”

 

“Just to know that you’re okay.”

 

“Because what, you think I’ve been with Brian nine years and he fucking hits me?”

 

He heard his mother sigh. “No. Because I can’t imagine this is easy for Brian. And I know he turns to you when he’s upset and I wanted to make sure you had someone to turn to.”

 

“I do.”

 

“Good.”

 

“And Mom.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Thanks. We’re okay. I’m okay.”

 

“But he’s not okay.”

 

“He’ll be okay. How about you?”

 

“What about me?”

 

“Molly’s leaving on the first right?”

 

“Yes. I’m going with her to help her get settled.”

 

“That’s good.”

 

“I hope so.”

 

“You’ll visit often.”

 

“If she’ll have me.”

 

“Don’t take no for an answer.”

 

“I’ve got to go sweetie.”

 

“Bye mom.”

 

Justin answered a few business related emails. Called Martin to make sure that the billing and account information was set up for the Grayson job and then called Brian’s cell. It went straight to voicemail. He left a message and concentrated on tying up some loose ends on an almost completed project.

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~

 

The meeting let out and Brian closed the door to his office. He dropped his head in his hands for a second. Took a deep breath and then ran his hands through his hair. He picked up his pile of messages. Michel, and seven tick marks. He grimaced. Aaron had decided that a new slip for every time Michael or Debbie called was pointless, and a waste of paper. He just made a tick mark for each call and then delivered them when there were actual messages to be relayed.

 

Debbie, five. Fuck. Neither seemed to be slowing down much. Remson had called. So had Technofrog an addictively simple program that was breaking big. 

 

He returned the call from Remson first. They went over the numbers and the strategy and once they were calmed down he called Technofrog. He answered their inane questions. He was tired of companies that didn’t know what to do once they hit the big time.

 

He pulled out his cell phone. Michael five, Debbie three and one from Justin. He put his phone away. 

 

He’d been trying. Really trying to figure out what the hell was wrong but he didn’t fucking know. He knew there was seemingly nothing wrong… and that’s as far as he got. For seemingly nothing wrong… it sure as hell felt like something was wrong.

 

He stayed late at the office and debated going out afterwards but he was too fucking tired. He could stay here longer but then he’d have to admit to himself that he was avoiding going home. He walked for a while and eventually hailed a cab. He took the elevator and felt something odd as he slid the key into the door. Fuck. He knew what was wrong.

 

Justin was sitting on the sofa flipping through channels. It was a little after eight. There was a half empty pizza box on the coffee table. “Hey.”

 

“Hi.”

 

Brian sat in the chair across from the sofa. “How was your day?” His heart actually constricted.

 

“Fine, yours?”

 

“We’re married.”

 

Justin almost did a spit take with his beer. “What?”

 

Brian was nodding. “We’re married.”

 

“Bullshit. Last time I looked no ring.” Justin held up his hand and wiggled his finger as if that settled the issue.

 

“How was your day dear?”

 

“Fuck you. Because I actually want to know how your day is we’re married?”

 

“No. Because I don’t actually want to talk about it. And I don’t really give a shit about the boring details of your day, and thus, I ask, and you shrug and say fine and…” Brian dropped his head in his hands. “We ended up fucking married.”

 

“You’re insane” Justin was standing and pacing. Running his hand through is hair. He turned to face Brian, his hands clasped behind his head, his elbows pointing straight out. “How the fuck did _this_ happen.”

 

“You see it too.”

  
”Fuck.”

 

Brian shrugged. “Maybe it’s inevitable.”

 

“We’re getting divorced.”

 

Brian nodded. “Makes the most sense. You gonna move or am I?”  
  


“Fuck.”

 

Brian didn’t laugh. He almost wanted to but only almost. “Fuck. Indeed.”

 

Justin was pacing again. “We fuck other people! We never _got_ married. We’re gay!” He emphasized his points by slapping the back of his hand into his palm. “We can't be married.”

 

“We are.”

 

“Why aren’t you losing your shit?”

 

“Because I’m formulating a plan.”

 

Justin seemed to relax a little. He stopped pacing at least. “You have a plan?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Okay, good. ‘Cause…”

 

“You might not like it.” He watched Justin’s expression… the kid looked scared. Good. He should be afraid. “We have to go away.”

 

Justin nodded. “Away.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“From each other.”

 

“No.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“From everything else.”

 

“What?”

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Nothing?”

 

“We’re married. That’s what’s wrong. How exactly is a family vacation going to fix this?”

 

Brian shook his head. “A vacation _from_ family. Gus is coming in three weeks. If we don’t fucking deal with this he’s gonna spend a summer with a bickering married couple… not letting that happen. “

 

“Deal with this? What does that mean.”

 

“Haven’t thought that far ahead. Can’t do this while Michael’s calling daily…”

 

“Hourly.”

 

“You too?”

 

Justin nodded.

 

“Okay, Michael and Deb.” Brian looked up for confirmation; Justin’s grimace was all he needed. “Michael _and_ Debbie calling hourly. Your half-breed in my office all day and Gus staying with us. We have to go away.”

 

“Can’t hurt.”

 

“We’ll leave Sunday.”

 

“Okay, gives me enough time to wrap some shit up here.”

 

“Me too. No phones. We’ll give Aaron our number…he can tell us if anyone dies, otherwise… just us.”

 

“How is this the anti-marriage resolution plan?”

 

Brian didn’t answer. He didn’t want to scare Justin but he wasn’t sure it was. It might be the pro-marriage acceptance plan…but then again…maybe not. He shrugged instead. “I’ll have Cyn book it.”

 

Justin was pacing and Brian handed him a cigarette. “It could be worse.”

 

“How?”

 

“You could be unable to use your right hand to flick the ashes on our floor.”

 

“Hey, look at that.”

 

Brian moved closer and wrapped his arms around Justin. “We’ll figure it out.”

 

“Fuck I hope so. I’m too young to be married.”

 

Brian laughed. “You said yes when you were younger.”

 

“You told me I’ve always been a stupid kid.”

 

“Yeah, we were both stupid about that.”

 

“And now?’

 

“Now we just have to make some changes to the playbook.”

 

“Brian.” Justin groaned. “Why is this so much fucking work?” He bit out between clenched teeth.

 

“Because some twat I know wanted a relationship. If this were just fucking…no work involved.”

 

“Oh yeah. That sucked too though.”

 

Brian nodded and took the cigarette out of his hand. He took a deep drag and exhaled while Justin’s head was under his chin. “It’s okay sonny-boy.”

 

“Don’t call me that. It’s creepy when we’re married.”

 

“Yes dear.”

 

“That’s creepier.”

 

“C’mere twat.”

 

“That works.” Justin smiled as Brian threw the cigarette into the sink and pulled Justin into the bedroom. If they were married, they may as well take advantage of the supposed benefits.


	21. Chapter 21

 

 

 

* * *

 

**Keeping It Together**

**Chapter Twenty-One**

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Neither had much to say for the next few days. They both buried themselves in their own work. Tying up loose ends, making sure things could continue uninterrupted while they were away. They almost, but not quite, avoided each other in bed. It was automatic and still hot but there was desperation there, and a sadness. Neither was sure whose fault it was. 

 

They said almost nothing on the ride to the airport. Once on the plane, Justin sketched 'til his hand gave out. Brian drank 'til he couldn’t think clearly enough to worry.

 

Justin hailed the cab and gave the driver the address. 

 

There was a couple staying to provide maid service and general domestic duties. They assisted with the luggage. There wasn’t much of it but Justin had his hands full with Brian who might now be more tired than drunk but was still staggering a bit as he walked.

 

Eventually he maneuvered him onto the bed and let him flop back. When Antoine, the bellman/lawn guy/cook, left Justin started to unpack.

 

“Won’t work you know.”

 

“What won’t?” Justin was debating hanging vs. folding for an item and turned to look at Brian. 

 

“Can’t make it all better by unpacking. You do it wrong anyway.”

 

“I’m not trying to make anything better. You’re too drunk to do it and I really don’t feel like hearing about it when all your shit’s wrinkled in the morning.”

 

“Ever see _Two for the road_?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Great movie.”

 

“Charlie Gheen and Kerri Green?”  
  


“That’s three for the road dipshit. This one is Audrey Hepburn and Albert Finney.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Great movie.”

 

“You said that.”

 

“That’s what’s wrong with us.”

 

“We’re a great movie?”

 

“No. We’re two for the road.”

 

“Brian.”

 

“Mmm.”

 

“Talk to me when you’re sober.”

 

“I’m not that drunk Sunshine.”

 

“Don’t call me that.”

 

“Why not?’

 

“Because you’re drunk and being an asshole.”

 

“You’re just upset that we’re married.”

 

Justin dropped whatever he was about to hang up on the floor and stormed out. “Hang up your own clothes.”

 

He found a pitcher of frozen margaritas in the kitchen and poured himself a large one. He took it outside and sat on the patio. The ocean breeze felt nice. The view was beautiful. The melted lollipop flavor of the margarita was strong and refreshing. He thought he might be dying.

 

He pulled his knees up and rested his chin on them and refused to cry. He was not going to cry. He’d cried too much over Brian. He wasn’t gonna do it anymore. _Fucking married._ this was not the plan. This was not what they’d agreed to. This sucked. 

 

 

Justin's POV

 

FUCK.

 

I’ve had this sick, cold, creeping fear thing since he said it. I’ve tried to ignore it. I’ve worked, and painted, and fucked him, and through it all…cold, sick, dread.

 

I pour myself another margarita. They’re good. The place is nice…no shit. Like Cyn would send us somewhere crappy on our honeymoon. Fuck. Honeymoon. And that’s what this is isn’t it…if we’re married?

 

Except it isn’t and we’re not. Except it is and we are. I need another drink. I need to run. Far. Marriage doesn’t work for us. Yeah, I’ve thought it in my own head, that we’re as good as married. But the last time Brian made a commitment like that I lost him. Not to New York. Not to distance or time. That’s how I found him again. I lost him to what he thinks marriage should be.

 

He doesn’t want that. I don’t want that. And if neither of us wants that, then how the hell did we end up here? Married. Fuck. I can’t figure this out and I can’t talk to anyone about it. Everyone would look at me like I’m insane.

 

Um, I love Brian Kinney, doesn’t that denote a certain amount of insanity? Isn’t that a given? I’m insane. I have brain damage. I’m not stupid. If he wants to stay… and I think he does…and he thinks we’re married, and I _know_ he does, then what the fuck is he gonna do. 

 

I don’t want a Stepford fag husband. I don’t want him to be anything but what he is. What he wants to be. If he stops being what he wants to be we’re both in deep shit trouble.

 

Another margarita won’t fix this. It won’t break it either. I settle back and feel the cool breeze from the ocean and I try to think. My head’s swimming. Swimming…sounds like a good idea. I pull off my shirt and my jeans and the water is cool and soothing and I still don’t know what to do but I lay on my back and let the warmth of the sun beat down on me. I can’t think about it now.

 

~***~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~*~**~**~

 

Brian’s POV

 

Fuck. I didn’t mean to scare him. I really didn’t. Not so sure what he’s scared of exactly except the word. Well, and maybe that I’ll run. Would have once. Probably should now. Not gonna.

 

Lots of reasons not to run. First is I don’t want to. I’d rather be married with him than not married without him. Sick. When did I get so fucking… settled.

 

That’s the thing we’re in a rut. That’s why we feel married. Yeah, he fucks other people. I fuck other people. Somehow, that’s not enough to avoid the definition anymore. We live together, joint checking accounts, names on mortgages. He’ll pull my plug. I’m gonna be forty. Forty fucking years old and I’ll be forty and married.

 

Thirty sucked. Thirty really sucked. Forty might not suck. Not if he can stay sane…and fucking talk to me. He hasn’t talked to me since I told him. I shouldn’t have told him. I had to tell him. _Had_ to. If I didn’t tell him we’d still be walking around unhappy and not knowing why. At least now we know why.

 

Definitions. They’ve never worked for me. I’m gay. So I’m supposed to be a big queen? I’m supposed to wear a lot of lavender, and magenta and say sweetie all the fucking time. I’ll leave that to Emmett. Am I supposed to be some member of some big brotherhood? Why, because I prefer to fuck men? No. So now I’m in another randomly defined group…married men. I guess it’s time to grow a beer gut and get a favorite chair. Fuck I have one of those…the chair, not the beer gut. What I don’t have is a wife. 

 

He’s not my wife. Never wanted him to be. Never expected him to be. Not unhappy with him as a partner. And it’s more than good hair and a great ass… it’s him. Fucking mercenary, predatory, brain damaged twat that he is…I’m in fucking love with him. Are you supposed to be this in love with the person you’re married to? I don’t think so. 

 

But then you’re supposed to be bored and maybe we are. And you’re supposed to stop communicating and we fucking have. He fucking has. It’s funny. Everyone says I’m the one who doesn’t talk. And I don’t but when something big’s going on he’ll push 'til I talk. With him… lately, he just…clams up. Nothing I say, nothing I do, gets him to talk. Fuck…

 

My head’s starting to clear I need another drink. Princess left my fucking pants on the floor where he dropped them… fuck it…I’ll get them later. Right now I need a drink, and to get him to talk. If we can talk, we can work this out.

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~

 

Brian stumbled downstairs looking for signs of Justin. He poured himself a double tequila and was about to down it when he saw him floating at the top of the pool. His throat constricted. His heart constricted. He absently noted the empty pitcher of margaritas and moved more quickly than he would have thought possible in his still buzzing state of inebriation.

 

“Justin.” No movement. No answer.

 

“Justin!” 

 

He waded in and pulled him by his ankle towards the shallower end of the pool. Justin looked up and smiled. “Hi.”

 

Brian let out a long sigh. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

 

“What?”

 

“Don’t swim when you’re drunk.”

 

“I wasn’t swimming I was floating.”

 

“Like a dead man.”

 

“I think when you’re dead you roll onto your chest like this…” Justin attempted to roll over but Brian pulled him into a hug before he could manage it. “‘S’okay, I’ve seen the dead man’s float.”

 

“Why are you in the pool with your clothes on?”

 

Brian shook his head. “Stupid.”

 

“And they say I have brain damage.”

 

“And you do.” Brian pressed a finger against Justin’s shoulder and watched the spot turn white and then bloom back to red. “C’mon, you’re gonna end up burnt, we need to put something on that.”

 

“I’m fine. You just like to worry.”

 

“Not really.”

 

“Then why do you do it?”

 

“Can’t help it. You’re worrisome.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Hey.”

 

“Brian?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Can we get unmarried? I don’t like it.”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Good.”

 

“What _do_ you like?”

 

“You.”

 

“But you want to unmarry me.”

 

“Mmm hmm… I don’t like you when you think you’re married. You’re cranky and quiet and you’re weird.”

 

“I’m weird when I think I’m married?”  
  


“You want to do stupid shit.”

 

“Stupider than falling asleep drunk in the Mexican sun with skin like a baby’s ass?”

 

“Stupider than that.” Justin nodded. “You’re gonna be different.”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“I don’t like you different.”

 

“I’m different now than when you met me.”

 

“Duh. You were a moron when I met you.”

 

“And now?”

 

“Um… you’re really smart.”

 

“Am I? 

 

Justin looked up and gave a close-lipped smile. “Sometimes. Except when you say shit like that we’re married.”

 

“Would it be so bad?”

 

Brian hand moved them to the kitchen and found some after sun care in the cabinet, he was rubbing it into Justin's chest.

 

Justin nodded. “Bad beyond words. What if you stopped fucking other people?”

 

“What if I did?”

 

“Are you…”? Justin looked up at Brian again with genuine fear in his eyes. “Did you?”

 

“You’re afraid.”

 

“Duh.”

 

“You’re afraid I’ll stop fucking other people?”

 

“Last time you did that it took four years for us to come close to where we were before.”

 

“Only geographically.”

 

“No… it was um…more than geoggrp…um, gegograf… um, more than about where we were.” Brian laughed. Justin was more drunk than he’d thought. 

 

“Okay, so more than geographically.”

 

“Yeah. You weren’t sure. I wasn’t sure. We knew about each other but the whole rest of our lives were blank.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“I don’t want my life to be blank.”

 

“Gives you lots of options Sunshine.”

 

“I don’t really want that many options. I mean with art, yeah. But not with you.”

 

“Well if we stay married there are no options.”

 

“But then it’s all filled in.”

 

“I thought that’s what you just said you wanted.”

 

Justin leaned against Brian on the sofa, his back against Brian's chest now. “I want options, not um…those things you can’t get out of…”

 

“Cages?”  
  


Justin shook his head. 

 

“Traps?”

 

“Traps! That’s it. See, you’re smart. I don’t want to be trapped.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“I don’t want you to be trapped.”

 

“I don’t think I am.”

 

“Then you’re gonna leave?”

 

“No.”

 

“But you could.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And I could.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“How drunk am I?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Will I remember this in the morning?”

 

“I hope so.”

 

“If we can both leave and we’re not trapped, it might be okay if we’re married. But there are two really really important crocodiles.”

 

“Codicils?”

 

“Yeah, them.”

 

“What are they?”

 

“We can’t tell anyone. Shhhh…big secret.” Brian laughed and leaned in to kiss the top of Justin’s head. 

 

“What’s the other one?”

 

“Other what?”

 

“Crocodile.”

 

“Oh yeah, um, don’t tell anyone and um… the other one… yeah! You still can’t be monogamous. You gotta fuck around. You like to.”

 

“It’s true I do. But you do too.”

 

“Sometimes. Sometimes it’s just boring though. The Safrisso client was boooooring.”

 

“You’re very drunk.”

  
”He was very boring. I shouldn’t have fucked him.”

 

“Only fuck people you want to.”

 

“Okay. You.”

 

“Me?”  
  


“I want to fuck you.”

 

“Well, you’d have to be able to get it up, and stand up…and I’m not sure you can do either.”

 

“Can too…see.” Justin pulled away from Brian to stand up but didn’t quite make it off the sofa. Brian pulled him back down.

 

“I’ll give you a rain check.”

 

“It’s not raining.”

 

“I’ll give you a margarita check.”

 

“Those are good. Are there any more?”

 

“I think you drank them all.”

 

“I’m gonna be cranky in the morning.”

 

“No shit.”

 

“Will you still want to be married to me if I’m cranky?”

 

“No. But then when you’re that cranky I don’t even want to be your whatthefuckever boyfriend or something.”

 

“But you are.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Cause I think you love me.”

 

“I think you’re right.”

 

“Know what I love?”

 

“Margaritas?”

 

“And you.”

 

“So you want to stay un unmarried?”

 

“Don’t make my head hurt. But we can’t get bored.”

 

“We _were_ bored.”

 

“I know. I wanted to claw my eyes out.”

 

“You always want to do that.”

 

“Not cause of headaches.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Brian?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“If I promise to remember that I don’t want to unmarry you in the morning…can I go to bed now?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Good.” 

 

Brian was about to help Justin up when he realized that he’d passed out. “Fuck I hope he remembers this in the morning.”

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~*

 

Justin felt the bright sunlight seeping in through his eyelids and groaned. He pulled a pillow over his head but the soft electric hum of the air conditioner, and the loud crash of the waves on the beach were beating against his skull, making it vibrate and pulse. He sat up slowly and swallowed the aspirin Brian must have left on his bedside table. The water was still cool. He idly wondered when Brian had managed to get them both up to bed…he knew he hadn’t done it himself…he was pretty sure he’d passed out.

 

He moved slowly and took a shower. The water felt like ice needles against his skin and he realized he’d actually gotten somewhat burnt yesterday laying at the pool. He shook his head. Too stupid to remember sunscreen. No wonder Brian treated him like a kid sometimes.

 

He was still moving slowly when the memory of last night’s conversation crashed over him. He sat quickly on the ledge of the tub. Fuck. He’d agreed to stay married.

 

The sunscreen was on top of the dresser and he fought back whatever aggravation he might have felt that Brian did little things like that. It was just his way of being… Brian. And with the redness of his chest from yesterday, it’s not like he could argue the point too well. He slathered it on and pulled on his favorite drawstring linen pants.

 

He wasn’t sure if he could handle food but maybe just a piece of fruit. He leaned over and left a kiss on Brian’s temple before heading downstairs.

 

Brian joined him twenty minutes later. Bed headed and clad only in a pair of jeans, top button unbuttoned. He stole a piece of pineapple off of Justin’s plate.

 

“Morning.”

 

“Morning”

 

Brian ran a hand slowly down Justin’s chest. “You really got some sun.”

 

“I was drunk.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I remember though.” 

 

Brian raised an eyebrow.

 

“We’re not getting unmarried.”

 

Brian stole a strawberry. “Right that. Good. Probably messy.”

 

“Probably. Plus… I kinda like you.”

 

“Good to know.”

 

“But we um.”

 

“We need to…”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Brian nodded. “Later, when your head feels better.”

 

“Okay.”

 

They both sat in silence for a while…neither sure what to say, neither really wanting to spoil the mood, or start a new argument.

 

Finally Brian shook his head. “This is bullshit.” He grabbed Justin’s arm and pulled him up off of the kitchen barstool. Pulling impatiently at the cord on his pants he pulled them loose and pulled Justin to him, kissing him hard.

 

Justin responded with equal enthusiasm, his tongue sliding against Brian's. They traced the outline of one another’s lips. Brian nibbling and sucking on Justin’s lower lip. Justin’s hands pulling Brian to him sliding slowly down his back and below the waistband of his jeans.

 

Brian's hands were moving towards a similar goal. He was cupping Justin’s ass pulling his body closer. He felt Justin’s leg wrap around his own and leaned back a bit as Justin wrapped both legs around his waist. Brian's hands moved lower to support his weight and walked them towards the sofa. He never stopped kissing him. Never pulled his head away. Never wanted to let go.

 

He dropped Justin down slowly and pulled up a little to look at him. 

 

His chest, red from the sun, was heaving. His cock was rock hard and his eyes were hazy with desire. His arms were over his head and his body, lean and lithe, stretched and arched like a cat. 

 

Brian's hands instinctively traced the curving lines of his torso. Justin's hands moved towards him. They were pulling at the denim on his thigh and he let out a grunt of displeasure. Brian laughed a little and unzipped his jeans, tossing them off to the side. 

 

He knelt between Justin’s thighs and grabbed his foot as it came up to caress his chest.

 

He kissed the arch of his foot. He kissed the top of it. He lay gentle kisses on the bony nub of his ankle and moved higher to hit the spot behind his knee that made him purr. He swiped a wide line from inside his thigh to his hipbone and then moved higher to kiss his mouth again.

 

Justin was moaning now. Moaning and smiling and so was Brian. They had a lot of bullshit to talk about. And most of it was just that. Bullshit. Stupid shit that they needed to come to an understanding about so that they could stop queening out over a label. They’d do that. They’d do all of it. But first there was this.

 

There was the salty taste of the sunscreen on his shoulder and the deep groan that vibrated through him when he bit his nipple. There were sweaty blonde locks to be brushed off his forehead and demanding growls to take in. There was heat and wet and a tight perfect fit as he slid into him.

 

He felt Justin's desire. It was more than his hard cock. It was more than his hands. It was in every sound he made. It was clear every time he breathed Brian’s name out. It was obvious with each arch of his back, each stretch of his spine, each purr of contentment and moan of pleasure. And Brian played them all…

 

His body, his voice, his heart, all of them, in his control with a gentle caress along his ribs. A rough slap on his hip, a teasing nibble on his neck. He did each with a building desire of his own. All the while stroking slowly inside him. Feeling Justin’s tight body ripple around him, hot and perfect.

 

He felt Justin’s orgasm build and held him. Brian let him thrust into his fist and felt him speed up. His mouth was on his ear now. Biting at the lobe, growling incoherent syllables against his neck. And then they came. Together. Their bodies tensing and arching against each other in a symphony of love and desire and need and grunts and purrs and growls and sighs. 

 

They stayed like that. Brian laying half on and half off of Justin, still inside him. Their hands still stroking one another. Drawing meaningfully meaningless circles against a shoulder, a hip, a forearm. Fingers entwining, moving to brush a stray hair out of the other’s eye and then entwining again. Their bodies enmeshed as one. 

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~*~**~**~**~*

 

They were in the pool. Brian was reminding Justin to apply more sunscreen and Justin was reminding Brian to bite him. They were both laughing.

 

Brian pulled him forward when he reentered the water. “You okay?”

 

“I hate that question.”

 

“But I gotta know.”

 

“I am now.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“Yeah. I just. Don’t change. Don’t try to be…”

 

Brian nodded. “Is that what scared you?”

 

“Doesn’t it scare you?”

 

“Wanna hear something fucking bizarre?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“What scares me isn’t what we have. It’s that it could go away.”

 

Justin didn’t know what to say. He just… understood. Brian might say a lot of things. He might even admit occasionally, out loud, that he loved him, but that… Justin’s eyes teared up. He ducked his head under the water before Brian could see…he was too late.

 

When he emerged, dripping water against Brian’s ear he whispered, “I love you Brian”.

 

Brian wrapped his arms around him. It’s all he needed. 

 

 

 

<http://www.madeariman.com/villas/waves.htm>> Where they’re staying. 

 

 


	22. Chapter 22

 

 

 

* * *

 

**Keeping It Together**

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Justin and Brian were both pleasantly buzzed. A lot of margaritas, a lot of weed, a lot of fucking. It was after nine and the sun was just setting. They were standing on the balcony and swaying to the low sounds of music coming from far away on the beach.

 

Justin’s head was resting against Brian’s chest and Brian’s arms were around him. He kissed the top of his head. “You okay in there?”

 

“Stop asking me that.”

 

“You got quiet.”

 

“I’m listening to the music.”

 

Brian continued to sway with him. Justin’s hands found his hips and were pulling him forward a little. He bent his knees so that their bodies were more even to one another.

 

“Mmm”

 

Brian smiled. Justin was in a very mellow place and after the past few months. It was nice to see, nice to feel. 

 

Justin was mellow but not at all tired and he seemed to have some plans as he made small enticing circles against Brian's crotch. Brian felt himself getting hard and almost cursed the little shit. It was nice just standing here. Then he flashed on an image of Justin splayed across the bed and leaned in to kiss him instead.

 

He nibbled gently on his bottom lip, tugging at it as he pulled his head away. Justin had a soft smile on his face. “Mmmmmm”

 

He felt Justin’s grip on his hips tighten a little. Justin shifted so that Brian’s knee was between his own and he was grinding against it. _definite plans_ Brian thought.

 

Justin was still swaying, still smiling, and slowly edging Brian backwards towards the bed. 

 

“What are you doing?”

 

He smiled innocently up at him. Blinking his eyes a few times for good measure and Brian knew he was fucked. He let Justin's hands guide him towards the bed and felt the unhurried push. He fell backwards, arching and eyebrow and not saying anything.

 

Justin was crawling over him in that gracelessly graceful way he had when he was drunk and intent on something at the same time.

 

Brian pulled at his leg, as he started to disappear onto the other side of the bed. 

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“Gotta get something.”

 

Brian arched an eyebrow again and realized he was pretty drunk himself, he was arching it at Justin’s calf…it didn’t have the same effect. He pulled Justin backwards until the little blonde was on top of him. 

 

Justin grinned and he’d apparently found what he’d needed because his hands were busy doing something over Brian’s head.

 

“Do I get to know about these plans you have?”

 

“Oh, you’re a big part of them.”

 

“Am I?”

 

“Huge.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Ginormous.”

 

“You’re drunk.”

 

“So’re you. This’ll be good.”

 

“It will?’

 

“Mmm hmmm. I’m gonna make you feel really good.”

 

Brian groaned inwardly. He _had_ given him a margarita check. 

 

Justin's fingers were covered in lube and Brian bucked away from the cold as they grazed his ribs. Then he sucked in his breath as he watched Justin preparing himself.

 

Brian laughed. The kid was too drunk to know who was fucking whom. But Justin kissed him and crawled off of him. “Just gimme a minute.”

 

Brian laid back and turned his head to watch. He inhaled sharply at the view. Justin's graceless little show became a little more erotically charged. His head was on the pillow and his hands were pushing the dildo Brian had thrown into his suitcase as a joke deep inside himself.

 

Justin was grunting and sliding it in fully. He wiggled the base and then turned around and gave a lopsided grin. “Ready. Now, c’mere.”

 

Brian wasn’t sure he could move. He’d been hard. Now… there was no blood going anywhere but his cock. He felt lightheaded. He let his hand drop to the side, reaching for Justin. “You c’mere.”

 

Justin shook his head. “Too full to move. C’mere.”

 

Brian considered just remaining still. But then Justin's hands were pulling him to the side and his dripping cock was right at Brian’s mouth. Brian licked at the head and looked up, grinning at Justin’s expression. “Like that?”

 

Justin nodded and moved a bit as he pulled Brian again until he was on his stomach. “Like this more.” He was moving slowly, trying to position Brian. Brian resisted, because it was expected of him, because he was drunk. At no point did he lie, even to himself, and pretend he didn’t want this.

 

Soon he was on his knees and Justin's mouth was sucking his balls. Running his tongue around them. Scraping his teeth ever so lightly along the sac. He pressed his tongue hard into the spot behind them and Brian gasped. Justin laughed and his breath tickled as it hit Brian's body, making him shiver and fucking squirm. Brian was glad Justin was probably too drunk to remember much of this in the morning.

 

Then he really wasn’t thinking about anything other than Justin’s tongue. It was making broad swipes against his hole. Delving into the folds of flesh, letting them drip with his spit. When he first thrust it into him Brian bucked and Justin's hands steadied his hips. 

 

“Don’t move.” Justin mumbled into his ass. 

 

Brian tried to remain still, impassive. It was not his best effort. Justin's hands and tongue and fingers were all working together to bring him to orgasm. He felt a lube-slicked palm encircle his cock and he thrust into it. When his eyes closed the image of Justin, plunging that dildo into his ass played before his eyes and he knew that Justin’s attentions were an amazing feat considering how full he was at the moment. 

 

He couldn’t stop the images from floating through his mind and as Justin stabbed his tongue into him again he came.

 

He wasn’t prepared for Justin to fuck him at that moment, but he should have been…it was a move taken directly out of the Brian Kinney handbook.

 

His body was convulsing and then he was impaled on Justin's wide cock. He was surrounded by the heat of the room. The ceiling fan’s lazy circles cooling the sweat and sending shivers down his body. He was enveloped in the smell of Justin, the feel of him inside him, angling and prodding his prostate. His body shaking and sweating with pleasure. Justin’s voice.

 

Oh god, the sounds the kid was making. Not words. He’d lost words a long time ago, but grunts and mewls and moans that made Brian want to turn around and kiss him. To breathe in those sounds, but at the same time, he didn’t want to move, didn’t want Justin to stop. He buried his head in the sheets, his fists grasping at the duvet as Justin slowed the tempo and began to fuck him in long slow strokes.

 

“You’re gonna come again Brian. But not for a while. When you do. I’m gonna be fucking you. Gonna fuck you 'til you come again so just relax. Just let me.”

 

His chin was on Brian’s shoulder blade, his hair tickling his back. He groaned and then heard the soft hum as Justin turned the base of the vibrator.

 

Brian could feel the vibrations running through Justin’s body and into his, he swore he could. Justin didn’t speed up. He pulled out completely and plunged back in and Brian was growling. He wanted Justin to speed up. He was hard again and really, what was the point of being hard if you weren’t going to come?

 

Justin’s body should be a quivering mess. He should be out of control but dammit, the kid had gotten really good at this. Instead he was moving almost languidly. When Brian pushed back against him he felt those fingers dig into his hips again. Felt the lube from Justin's palm and tried to twist out of his grasp. It didn’t work. Justin moved one hand, wiping it on the sheet and then he smacked Brian’s ass before he put it back on Brian’s hipbone.

 

“I’m running this show Brian.”

 

Brian couldn’t do anything but grunt. Justin read Brian’s body as well as Brian could read his. He felt himself about to come and Justin would stop. He’d stay inside him and not move, his hands stoking down Brian’s back, along his sides. His forehead resting against Brian’s back his soft, low voice so fucking sexy Brian wanted to reach in and pull out his vocal chords.

 

“Just take your time Brian. We’ve got nowhere to be.”

 

“Goddammit Justin.”

 

Justin chuckled and started to fuck him again. He moaned and moved his own hand towards his cock. It was a pointless attempt. Justin's hand blocked him. “No.”

 

“Justin, finish this.” Brian gritted out.

 

“Now it’s just gonna take longer.” Justin teased as he slid slowly into Brian again.

 

Brian felt Justin come. Felt him speed up. Heard the gasps and moans and felt his body freeze against him. He clamped down on him and pushed back. Frustrated. But Justin didn’t stop. He kept going and Brian was once again amazed at the techniques the kid had picked up. Finally Justin sped up his rhythm, stroking along Brian's prostate and hitting it each time. 

 

Brian growled and moaned and shuddered as he came. Justin slapped his ass again for good measure and pulled out slowly. Brian gritted his teeth against making another sound but he did grunt a little when Justin pulled back completely, leaving him with that aching empty feeling that was one of the primary reasons he didn’t bottom. Fuck control, fuck image…if he wanted to feel achingly empty, he had real life. Sex wasn’t supposed to do that.

 

He rolled over slowly to see Justin sitting back against the headboard. Smug smile on his face. His hand languidly rubbing his own cock. Brian realized the vibrator was still twirling the tip of that shaft inside him.

 

He growled and pulled at Justin’s ankles with renewed strength.

 

He stretched his body over the boy’s and kissed the smile off his face. When Justin’s eyes were deep blue, almost black, and his head was reaching up for another kiss, Brian moved his hands to the base of the phallus and pulled it out a little.

 

Justin whimpered and Brian grinned ferally. He pushed it back in and Justin’s body bucked. “This might take a while” Brian mimicked Justin’s words as he began to fuck the boy slowly, moving the setting to low. Letting Justin feel the spin and the vibrations but not with the intensity required to get him off.

 

“Brian.”

 

Brian raised and eyebrow and Justin melted into the bed, raising his knees and spreading his thighs wide. “Fuck me.”

 

Justin’s entire body responded to every stimulus. Brian licked a nipple and his back arched like a bow. He sucked his tongue and he moaned as if Brian were sucking his cock.

 

He quivered as Brian ran a hand down his chest and he gasped as Brian thrust the vibrator in and out of him in an unsteady rhythm that left him unsure of what to feel next.

 

He was begging. Whimpering, pleading, all without words. Brian didn’t need words. He knew those sounds. When he turned the speed up again and began to thrust with a hard fast rhythm the sounds became sighs and moans and purrs of thank you. Still no words. Still none needed.

 

When he came this time Justin’s entire body seemed to freeze in mid motion. His back arched, his thighs tensed. His hands stayed clenched in fists and Brian put his mouth on the head of Justin’s cock and sucked hard until he’d swallowed every drop. 

 

Justin’s body relaxed then and Brian slowly began to pull the dildo out. 

 

Justin put a hand on Brian's arm, his voice a little shaky. “Just… just… leave it there.”

 

Brian smiled and gathered Justin into his arms, holding him close. Running a hand through his sweat soaked hair and pulling it off his forehead. Occasionally he’d bump his hips against Justin’s ass and feel him tremble again as the shaft inside him bumped against his prostate. 

 

They fell asleep like that. Drifting on the euphoria of great sex, and margaritas and ocean air.

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

 

It was late the next morning and they’d both had several quiet cups of coffee. A couple of aspirin each, and some toast. Justin stretched.

 

“Feeling better?”

 

He nodded. “Have I mentioned how much I love these stupid tropical vacations?”

 

“Stupid?”

 

“Well, they’re kind of corny.”

 

“You want to pick the next location?”

 

“Next time, can we do this without some major crisis first?”

 

“There was no major crisis last time. Or this time.”

 

“Last time my dad died.”

 

“That wasn’t last time, that was the time before last. We went to St. Bart’s two years ago.”

 

“Yeah, but you’d just almost lost Brown Athletics, and you had to get away from Aaron before you killed him.”

 

Brian looked up. “He told you about that?”

 

Justin stood up to get himself another cup of coffee. He kissed Brian’s forehead on the way to the kitchen. “I’m on to you, remember?”

 

“What did he tell you?”

 

“Brian, he didn’t have to tell me anything.” Justin poured his coffee and waved the pot at Brian who shook his head. He came back and curled up on other end of the sofa from Brian. “I come to Pittsburgh. Aaron looks like he just lost his best friend. You say like, one word to him, and refuse to speak his name the entire trip.”

 

“That’s not why we went on vacation.”

 

“It is a little. What the fuck was up?”

 

Brian shook his head. “Nothing. Kid was being a fucking idiot. Took emulating his big brother a bit too far.”

 

“He fall in love with a greasy violinist?”

 

Brian glared at him and Justin shrugged. “What’d he do?”

 

“You know that crystal issue that you never really had?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“He did.”

 

“Fuck.”

 

“It was a long time ago.”

 

“But fuck!”

 

“Don’t queen out now. And don’t give him shit about it.”

 

“But you did?”

 

“Yeah. He was being a twat.”

 

“That’s my job.”

 

“He was making a play for it. Fucking kids.”

 

“You know I never really did have an issue right?”

 

“It was the brain damage.”

 

“It actually was, I think.”

 

Brian looked up. “You had headaches that far back?”

 

“I’ve always had headaches. But my had hurt a lot. I was working all the time. Then the bullshit with Aaron. Then the bullshit with Molly.”

 

Brian nodded. “Stress. Your family manufactures it.”

 

“Something like that. You had the right idea. Leave and never look back.”

 

“I don’t know. You and Aaron are pretty tight lately. And you and your mother get along pretty well.”

 

“Well, she’s not your mother, so yeah, she was worth staying in touch with.”

 

“And we had the Mexico trip planned before your father died.” Brian picked up the older thread of their conversation.

 

“Not working. Tell me a story about Aaron.”

 

“Nothing to tell. He forgot not to take candy from strangers.”

 

“That little shit!”

 

“And that’s the last I’m saying if you’re gonna queen out two years after the fact.”

 

“Did he get Ted bad?”

 

“No. Only Theodore can fall that hard that fast and make it look easy.”

 

“He’s a good guy.”

 

Brian put his coffee cup on the table and stretched his legs. “Yeah, he is.”

 

“He’s a pussy about drugs.”

 

“Yeah, he is.”

 

“Aaron’s not?”

 

Brian shook his head. “He was heading down a bad road.”

 

“This wasn’t just one of those things he does so you’ll rescue him?”  
  


“If he shoots up just to watch me rescue him he’s sicker than I thought.” Too late Brian realized what he’d said.

 

“He was fucking shooting up?”  
  


“Let it go. Hasn’t done it in years.”

 

“But he still does some shit.”

 

“So do you.”

 

“I wasn’t an addict.”

 

“He was a fledgling addict.”

 

“That’s what you called me.”

 

“I was kidding with you.”

 

“Are you still against locking him in a box until he’s thirty?”

 

Brian seemed to consider it. “He’ll find a way out. And he’s okay now.”

 

Justin moved until he was leaning against Brian, his bare back against Brian’s naked chest. “Fuck. You must have been scared.”

 

Brian was massaging Justin’s hand and Justin leaned his head back against his shoulder. “I was pissed.”

 

“That just means you didn’t want to admit you were scared.”

 

Brian dropped Justin’s hand. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

 

“You do that. You get mad when you’re scared because you don’t like fear.”

 

“Who does?”  
  


“No one, but some people deal with fear, they don’t bury it under anger and Jim Beam.”

 

“Some people are stupid.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Brian picked Justin’s hand up again. “We still have to…”

 

“I know.”

 

“We were in a…”

 

“Bad place?”

 

“Something like that.”

 

“Maybe New York was a bad idea. The city might kill us.”

 

“It’s not the city. It’s…”

 

“What?”  
  


“Life?”

 

“Life does, ultimately, kill everyone.” Justin nodded and Brian moved his shoulder a little against the tickle of Justin’s hair. 

 

“We should…”

 

“We can’t let it happen again.”

 

“It’s gonna happen again. We have to figure out how to fix it.”

 

“What’s wrong with really strong tropical drinks in the really strong tropical sun?”  
  


“We can’t run away every time the bullshit of living gets aggravating.”

 

“Is that what happened?”

 

“Lindsay told me once, that she loved Mel, but that gets lost in ‘you left the milk out’ and ‘who used all the toothpaste’ and ‘why the fuck didn’t _you_ call the electrician?’.”

 

“Is that what happened to us?”

 

“Maybe. Between your brain damage, and Remson’s bullshit, and Mikey, we didn’t have any time to just…”

 

“Be in love?”

 

“Stop finishing my sentences. And specifically, stop finishing them wrong. I was going to say to just fuck.”

 

“We didn’t stop fucking.”

 

“We stopped fucking just because.”

 

“We did?”

 

“It was this…obligation.”

 

“I’m really not all that unhappy about being obliged to fuck you Brian.”

 

Brian sighed into the back of Justin’s head. “Stop being dense.”

 

“I’m just not sure that’s what it was. What the fuck were you talking about when we first got here?”

 

“I don’t remember.”

 

“Something about Charlie Sheen and Audrey Hepburn.”

 

Brian laughed. “Audrey Hepburn and Albert Finney.”

 

“Right, that.”

 

“Good movie.”

 

“So you’ve said.”

 

“They’re a young couple traveling around Europe and completely in love. But it’s all told in flashback by an older couple traveling around Europe and not having anything left to say to each other.”

 

“Same couple I take it?”  
  


“They lost the joy I guess.”

 

“Is that what you think happened?”

 

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

 

“That’s not what happened.”

 

“So what did, Einstein?”  
  


“Fuck off. We didn’t lose the joy. We forgot to appreciate it.”

 

“There was joy?”

 

“Fuck yeah. But we were so busy worrying about Mikey and my brain damage and Remson and who was gonna call the electrician and who drank the last of the milk that we forgot to pay attention.”

 

“Maybe we’re not supposed to be happy all the time.”

 

“Duh, but when are you ever happy?”

 

Brian ran his hands up Justin’s arms. “Right now would be a good example.”

 

“Really?” Justin turned his head and smiled.

 

“We’re not getting unmarried right?”

 

“Right.”

 

“And the Remson thing worked.”

 

“It did?”

 

“Yeah. The numbers look good. The image is shifting.”

 

Justin narrowed his eyes. “How do you know that?”

 

Brian sucked his lower lip between his teeth. “I called Ted.”

 

“But…”

 

“I can’t let us go broke.”

 

Justin leaned back against him. “The phone’s off now though right?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Okay, so Remson’s fine. And my hand is doing better than they expected. I haven’t had a migraine in over a month.”

 

“So all that’s left is…”

 

“Michael.”

 

“Fuck.”

 

“It’s not done.”

 

“No.”

 

“Should we finish it?”

 

“We?” Brian asked.

 

“We. I’m not letting you do this alone.”

 

“I think I have to.”

 

“This is one of those times you hate.”

 

“Why’s that?”

 

“You’re wrong.”

 

“You’re right. I hate that.”

 

“Besides, I have to talk to him to. Do something about Rage.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Let him buy me out?”  
  


“You gonna let someone else draw Rage?”

 

“I’d rather do that than the other alternative.”

 

“Which is?”

 

“I’d have to kill Rage.”

 

“That would sell a lot of copies.”

 

“I can’t do it Brian.”

 

Brian kissed the top of his head. “I’ll bet you could.”

 

“I can’t. I won’t. I’m just… I’m not killing him.”

 

“So someone else can draw him.”

 

“Lee.”

 

“Lee?”  
  


“Lee loves Rage. He’d stay true to the whole thing. And he’s been doing a lot of kids book animation lately. He could do it.”

 

“So you do that… you gonna sell your interest in it to Lee?”  
  


“Maybe I could just hire him to do the artwork.”

 

“You think?”  
  


“It’s got to be a better option than you and I double teaming Michael. Plus, I still keep most of the income, which is good since I’m gonna spend more time painting.”

 

“You are?”

 

“Yeah. I mean, if that’s okay. It’s kind of, I mean, money might be tight for me again.”

 

“I’d rather cover your costs while you paint. Trust me you’ll be making money again in no time.”

 

“You really don’t know that.”

 

Brian leaned his head back and then pushed Justin forward. He dropped his jeans and headed towards the pool. “Pretend that I do.”

 

Justin laughed and dropped his own pants diving in after him. Tomorrow they’d go back, and maybe make a pit stop in Pittsburgh to see Michael. The rest of the day was theirs.


	23. Chapter 23

 

 

 

* * *

 

**Keeping It Together**

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Brian was tense. Justin could see it in his face and they hadn’t even gotten on the plane yet. Technically they were still on vacation. He leaned against him. “We can put this off.”

 

Brian shook his head. Justin rested his head on Brian's chest. It probably was better to do it this way. Fly straight to Pittsburgh, get both Debbie and Michael to back off and then go home. He smiled. _Home_.

 

They boarded the plane and as soon as drinks were served Brian ordered two. Justin didn’t say a word. This was harder for him. Michael _was_ his brother. Even brothers need some fucking boundaries. He pulled out his sketchbook and drew randomly, the beach, the pool, a few memories from their vacation. His hand was feeling better these days but after an hour or so he had to stop. 

 

Brian took his hand and massaged it quietly. “Still hurt?”

 

Justin shook his head. “Not too bad. Just wish I had my stamina back.”

 

Brian leered and Justin rolled his eyes. 

 

They didn’t talk much. Both of them eventually fell asleep. And when the plane landed in Pittsburgh they still weren’t talking. Neither was sure how they were going to begin to end this standoff with the Novotneys.

 

Justin watched as Brian walked around the loft. He did it every time they came back. He had no clue what Brian was looking for. Dust, water damage, proof that someone else had been using it? He shook his head. Brian was weird. It wasn’t news.

 

Justin took a couple of beers out of the fridge and handed one to Brian. He sat on the sofa and watched as Brian did some sort of circular pacing thing. 

 

“Should I hand you a cigarette and let you fuck up the floors?”

 

Brian looked up startled, as if he had forgotten anyone else was there. Then he smiled. “Not freaking. Just thinking.”

 

“Come up with a plan?”

 

Brian pulled his phone out of his pocket and called Michael. He requested his presence, and that of Debbie's, at the loft, at their earliest convenience. He was polite, overly so. He listened for a minute and then closed his phone.

 

“They’ll be here at seven.”

 

Justin looked at his watch. It was only four. Brian sat on the other end of the sofa and leaned back, his eyes closed. His fingers wrapped around the beer bottle the only indication he wasn’t asleep. Justin nudged him with a toe. 

 

“What?” Brian didn’t open his eyes.

 

“You know what you’re gonna say?”

 

Brian shrugged. “Gonna tell them to stop calling you. Stop calling me. Stop trying to drag Aaron and your mother into this.”

 

“We’ve tried that.”

 

“We’re trying it again.”

 

Justin finished his beer and didn’t say another word. Brian did fall asleep. Justin eventually faded as well. The vacation had been fun but at times, emotionally exhausting, and last night, they hadn’t gotten a hell of a lot of sleep. But that was for fun reasons.

 

They awoke to the sound of the buzzer. Justin yawned widely and Brian padded barefoot over to the door. He let Debbie and Michael up. 

 

“Last chance to bail.”

 

Justin shook his head. “ _We_ need to do this.”

 

Brian nodded and swung the door open as soon as they knocked. Michael’s expression was petulant. Deb looked a little more questioning than anything. She had a pan of baked ziti with her.

 

“I brought you food.”

 

Brian took it and put it on the counter and then motioned for them to sit. They both did, silently and Justin gritted his teeth. This was fucking insane. But he wasn’t gonna be the one to start. He still wanted to follow Brian’s lead… wherever that may go today.

 

Brian handed them each a beer and pulled another for himself and Justin as well. He sat down and Michael started before Brian had a chance to even take a sip.

 

“I’ve been trying to call you for like a month.”

 

Brian nodded still not saying anything.

 

“You can’t just declare we’re not friends anymore Brian. Just because you don’t like something I did. Hell, if that were good enough reason I should stop being friends with _you_.”

 

“So why haven’t you?”

 

Michael seemed to consider this for a moment. “Because we’re best friends.”

 

Justin could feel Brian trying not to sigh. He really did hate circular arguments.

 

“Brian.” Deb started with, what one assumed, she considered a soothing tone. “I know Michael’s made some mistakes.”

 

“Ma!”

 

She turned to her son. “You, shush, you’re not exactly an angel in all this.” Her attention was back on Brian. “He made mistakes but he didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt. You two are like brothers. You should be able to get past this.”

 

Brian took a long pull of his beer and lit a cigarette. Justin wasn’t sure if he was biding his time or trying to make them uncomfortable. He’d seen him do this for both reasons. He just waited.

 

“I’m sorry Gus got hurt, Brian.” Michael’s tone was apologetic and less whiny. Brian didn’t respond for a long moment while he exhaled a thick stream of smoke. 

 

“You call too much.”

 

Justin was as surprised by the statement as the other two. 

 

“Huh?” Michael’s face was scrunched in confusion.

 

“The both of you. You think this is about Gus getting hurt, or my moving to New York. It isn’t. It’s because you won’t let this, or anything, go. I’m done. I’m done being what you think you want me to be Michael. And Debbie…”

 

“Brian.” Debbie's tone was softer now.

 

“Thanks Deb. For a lot of things. I owe you that. I don’t owe you, or anyone, this. I’m done.”

 

“Brian. You keep saying you’re done. Done with what?” Michael’s voice was going up in pitch with each word.

 

Brian’s voice was level, and calm, and Justin hadn’t heard him repress emotions this strongly since before they took him to the hospital. Since the night they had sex in his office, the night he promised never to play violin music in the man’s presence again. Brian was feeling something, but he was working hard to deny it.

 

“All of it.” Was Brian’s terse reply.

 

“All of what, Brian? You can’t throw 24 years of history away just because you think you’re too good for us now.”

 

“Too good for you? Michael, what the fuck are you talking about?”

 

Michael turned his attention to Justin. “You stay out of this. It’s between Brian and I.”

 

Justin sat back to let Michael rant, but he didn’t. Michael leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “You know, I always knew you were an asshole. I always knew that you didn’t care about anyone but yourself. I really thought you had changed. I thought you’d gotten better about shit like this. You haven’t. You’re still the great Brian Kinney, stud of Liberty Avenue, god’s gift to gay PA.” He shook his head sadly. “Sorry I don’t live up to your standards Brian.”

 

Justin was genuinely confused as to what Michael was talking about. Brian might have been as well. His expression was bland. He lit another cigarette. He said nothing.

 

“Why do you keep calling me?” Justin finally asked. He needed to break the uncomfortable silence and he really wanted to just finish this and go home. Or at least go out. 

 

“Because we have stuff to do for Rage. And Brian won’t talk to me. I wanted to make sure he was okay.”

 

“He’d probably be better if you didn’t call four times a day. And Debbie?” Justin’s gaze shifted. “What was so important that you couldn’t leave my mother and Aaron out of it? What was so vital that you filled my voicemail box with messages?”

 

“I just wanted to apologize for hitting you. That was wrong.”

 

“And you did. The first time you called. And I said it was okay. So why didn’t you stop calling?”

 

“Because you have to talk to that asshole. Get him to understand.”

 

“Since when can I get Brian to do anything he doesn’t want to do?”

 

“Since forever. And you know it.”

 

Justin shook his head. “You two really don’t know Brian at all do you?”

 

Brian looked up sharply. “They really don’t.”

 

“Bullshit. I know who you are Brian. I’ve known you were trouble since the first time I heard your name. And now you’re pulling this shit?”

 

“What shit exactly Deb?”

 

“This!” 

 

Brian just looked at her, waiting. “You fucking hit my kid.”

 

Brian raised an eyebrow and Debbie seemed to deflate. “Okay, he hurt yours too. He’s your brother Brian.”

 

“And I’m so good about keeping in touch with family.”

 

Debbie shook her head. “You don’t understand.”

 

“PTSD?”

 

“It’s not bullshit Brian. It’s real.”

 

He nodded. “I’ve seen it first hand.” his eyes shifted to Justin who squeezed his hand and moved a little closer to him. “Doesn’t mean I have to put up with his bullshit.”

 

“Typical, bail when it gets tough.”

 

Justin almost exploded. He was about to stand up and launch into a tirade about just how much Brian didn’t bail on him when he felt Brian squeeze his knee. He bit his lip and held his tongue.

 

“We just got back from vacation. We made a small detour to Pittsburgh to try and make a few things clear.” Brian's tone was dangerously smooth. “Michael and you are to stay the fuck away from me, from Gus, from Justin, from Aaron. Whatever bizarre little schemes and plans you have. Whatever bullshit family you’re building with Mel and Jenny, whatever you want to do with your life. That’s your business. I’m done.”

 

“We’re not done!”

 

“Michael. The phone calls stop. The haranguing stops. The denigrating me to my kid, to my partner, to my kid’s sister, and to me, stops. Now. You don’t think I’ve changed? We’ve been through this and I don’t have to jump through hoops to prove shit to you. I’m where I want to be, doing what I want to be doing. If you’re not, that’s your issue, not mine.”

 

“Brian.”

 

“Michael. I can’t say I’ll never speak to you again. I just can’t let this go on. For now, you’ve gotta back the fuck off. Back away from me. Get your own shit together.”

 

Michael turned to Justin with some hope in his eyes. “We do need to talk about Rage.”

 

Justin shook his head. “I’m hiring an illustrator Michael. I’m a silent partner now.”

 

“You can’t afford that.”

 

“I can’t afford not to. I don’t need Rage anymore. I don’t need Brian to be a hero, rescuing me and all of Gayopolis. I guess maybe I liked that image once. Maybe I even needed it. I don’t anymore, but I know you still do, so keep writing. Build Brian up further as your hero. Make him more than human, that’s fine. I can’t do it anymore. I don’t want to. That said… turn Rage into an asshole just to get back at Brian and Rage the comic will end. Keep your personal animosity out of the story.”

 

Debbie stood up. “Congratulations Sunshine, you’ve become a ruthless bastard just like our hero.” She spit the last word out.

 

Justin smiled sweetly. “I’ve always been a ruthless shit Deb, you just never looked underneath the Sunshine.”

 

Brian laughed then and Michael and Debbie left, shaking their heads. 

 

Brian closed the door and leaned against it. “They’re draining.”

 

Justin pulled towards the bedroom. “They’re stupid.”

 

“They just…”

 

“Brian. They’re not necessarily bad people, but they’re as dumb as a couple of boxes of hair.”

 

Brian smiled. “Michael never really was one for catching on quickly. You really don’t think of me as your hero anymore?”

 

“Shut up. I like _you_ not Rage. I’ve told you already. I don’t need a hero. And what the fuck is up with them thinking I’m nice?”

 

“It’s that cherubic thing you’ve got going.”

 

“Yeah, lost that by the time I was twenty… was wondering if anyone would notice.”

 

“I noticed.”

 

“You never thought it was innocent.”

 

“You weren’t after the first twenty minutes.”

 

“You just popped my cherry that night. You didn’t steal my innocence for another week.”

 

“A week? Must have been an off week.”

 

“You were a little preoccupied. You had a son… and a stalker.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You okay?”

 

“If I’m not allowed to ask, neither are you.”

 

“You look… tired.”

 

“I’m not. I’m…”

 

“Sad.”

 

“Pissed off.”

 

Justin shrugged. “Same thing in your world.”

 

“My world?”

 

“Yeah. It’s that whole, anger’s cooler than real emotions thing. Sad, scared, lonely…all turns to anger.”

 

“Know what changes all of those?”

 

“Chivas regal on the rocks and loud music pulsing through the walls of the VIP lounge…oh and drugs. Lots and lots of drugs.”

 

Brian was smiling. “I guess I have taught you something.”

 

Justin smiled and headed towards the shower. “I’m getting the last of the sand off of me before I change. You coming?”

 

Brian followed him into the shower and Justin knew that they’d talk about it later. That later, he could probably get Brian to admit to sad, or lonely, or scared. But he also knew that the loud music and good drugs would be the best course of action for the evening.

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

 

Brian watched as Justin took another hit from the joint and stubbed out the roach. He pulled him close and kissed him hard. He used his free hand to gesture to a couple of guys currently watching them. They stepped forward to join them and Justin moaned into Brian's mouth as their hands started to remove both of their clothing.

 

They were both pretty far gone. He was too far gone to think about Michael anymore. He’d convinced himself of that, and no one was going to convince him otherwise. He was too far gone to think about anything other than how hot Justin looked fucking the guy against the back of the sofa. He was leaning back and watching the guy’s face as Justin plowed into him. The man between his own thighs had a talented tongue and Justin leaned forward to kiss him.

 

They stayed like that their hands and mouths on each other while two of the hottest guys in Pittsburgh felt the benefit of their passion.

 

Brian’s hands were in Justin’s hair. Pulling his face forward for another kiss. Letting their tongues slide against each other. Justin’s hand was on the trick’s hip. His other was on Brian’s shoulder, bringing them closer. 

 

Brian looked up when he heard a familiarly irritating voice and saw Michael standing outside, a bouncer holding his arm out, denying him entry. He kept Michael's gaze for a moment and then turned back to Justin, his attention focused entirely on the feel of Justin's skin. His hands slid down Justin’s back and he felt his heart rate speed up. He was close.

 

“Come for me.” 

 

Justin’s body was thrusting full force into the guy in front of him. The trick's hand working his own cock and pushing back against Justin's. 

 

Brian arched up into his tricks mouth and a complicated tongue maneuver sent him over the edge. They came together. Their breath mingling. Their hands grasping, their tricks groaning. 

 

Brian moved his hand lower down Justin’s chest. Holding the condom on as he withdrew and then removing it and tossing it aside.

 

The other men were forgotten as Justin straddled Brian’s lap and kissed him again. They were both vaguely aware that eyes were on them. That others were watching. They didn’t care.

 

Brian knew that Michael was probably still standing there, eyes glued to the scene. He didn’t care. 

 

Justin's body was against his. Justin’s mouth was on his. Justin’s heart was his. Nothing else mattered.

 

Hours later they staggered back to the loft and crashed. 

 

When the alarm woke them they quietly finished their morning ablutions. Grabbed their luggage and met the car to take them to the airport. They were done here for now.

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

 

A week later Brian came home to a loft that smelled like turpentine and paint. There was music blaring from the studio. He changed first and then knocked on the doorframe.

 

Justin looked up. He had a paint smudge on his nose and he was wearing one of Brian's expensive shirts as a smock. He wasn’t painting. Just staring at the canvas he’d been working on.

 

“Thought you weren’t gonna destroy my clothes anymore.”

 

“You were throwing it out.”

 

Brian looked over Justin’s shoulder at the painting. “It’s…”

 

Justin smiled. “Finished.”

 

Brian leaned back, surprised. “You finished something?”

 

Justin nodded. He couldn’t hide his enthusiasm. “I know I’ve been kind of… absent for the last couple of days…”

 

“You were working.”

 

“Painting. I was _painting_. I’m not sure if it’s good, but I know that it’s finished. It’s the first thing I’ve been able to finish since…”

 

“Brian damage.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“So does this mean you can’t blame your brain damage when you forget to pick up the dry cleaning?”

 

“No, I’ll still use that as an excuse but…”

 

“But you’re better.”

 

Justin flexed his hand. “Four hours. Not one tremor.”

 

“Four hours? You’re supposed to…”

 

Justin turned around. He put his arms over Brian’s shoulders and kissed him. “Shhhh. I’m okay. I took a break. I’m all better.”

 

Brian let out a breath it felt as if he’d been holding for months. “ _All_ better?”

 

“Yep. Probably because of last night. You fucked me all better.”

 

“Wish I could take the credit for this one.”

 

“Take it. It’s yours.”

 

“What about you?”

 

“I’m yours too.”

 

Brian moved Justin away from the completed work and pushed him against the wall. Staking his claim.

 

Justin’s back was arched and Brian's hand was stroking his hard on over his jeans when they heard the doorbell ring. 

 

“Shit.”

 

“It’s Gus.”

 

“And Lindsay.”

 

“You ready for this?”

 

Brian smiled. “I’m ready for anything.”

 

He moved away after another soft kiss to get the door, giving Justin time to pull himself together. 

 

Once Gus and Lindsay were settled in Gus’s room they ordered a pizza. Brian joined Gus to play a new video game. Lindsay and Justin were talking about a new gallery. Apparently Lindsay had gone to school with the owner. 

 

Aaron joined them a few minutes later and helped himself to a slice before picking up a third controller and joining the on screen mêlée. 

 

Brian tried to find an uncomfortable part of the scene. He knew it should be. It was domesticity in its truest form. His partner, his son, half-breed in law and his favorite hag, the mother of his child. No drama, no crisis.

 

He put down the controller and let Gus and Aaron battle it out. He joined the grown ups on the sofa. Justin leaned against him and reached up an arm to stroke his face. Lindsay did one of those knowing smile things he used to hate. 

 

“This is the joy.” Justin whispered.

 

Brian nodded. The kid wasn’t wrong.

 

~The End~

 

 


End file.
